A New Realm
by AEthereal Devastation
Summary: A Space Marine, having existed since the dawn of the Imperium, is caught in a sorcery and cast into a new world. The world of pokegirls. No lemons as of yet, rating may change. Don't like, don't read.
1. Chapter 1

_**A**** New Realm**_

_**A Warhammer 40k and pokegirls crossover  
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_**Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing except any OCs of mine. Anyone who tries to say that I own something will be tracked down by a pack of Fenrisian Wolves. You have been warned.**_

_**Chapter 1**_

"Lord Blackmane, what are your orders for me?" I ask. My rune axe is clenched in one hand, waiting to cleave through the skulls of xenos and heretic alike. In my other hand, I raise a massive combi-weapon, consisting of a fusion between a twin linked lascannon, a plasma cannon, and a multi-melta. An Iron Halo rises above my helm, my immense Terminator armored bulk towering over Lord Blackmane. We are currently in his tent, and the bustle of an Imperial army at war is clear all around us. The other Space Wolves of the company are gathered around the massive bonfire started an hour ago, when dusk started to fall as this world's twin suns began setting.

This world, by the name of Sigmund VII, is largely an agri-world. Small villages every few hundred kilometers, and the rest covered with fields. However, the massive oceans of this world are a different story. Beneath them are rich veins of the psychoactive crystal known as lorelei, commonly used for force weapons. But that is only one part of this world's value. It's forests, which proved impossible to get rid of when this world was settled, and which still claim 15% of the landmass, have in abundance several rare plant species that the Mechanicus Biologis uses for the production of many useful medicines. But most valuable of all are the massive wells of promethium in the mountains, which makes this world a priority to retake.

Not long ago, a dark eldar force began raiding this world, picking off a few people here, a few others there, and so on, slowly reducing the population and the output from this land. Luckily, the Adepta Sororitas keep a small temple here, which recruits from among this world's population. They managed to discover the dark eldar, and called for reinforcements from the Astartes and the Guard once their investigation discovered the other problem on this world. On one of the three continents, the Tau had created a foothold and built a fortress which would require armor the Sororitas doesn't have. Genestealers also proved present among the population, and summoned a small splinter fleet, which arrived only a few days ago. Arriving before the splinter fleet, presumably having felt the call in the warp, an Ork WAAAAGH arrived to complicate matters, and Chaos had managed a foothold on one other continent, courtesy of the Iron Warriors and the Dark Mechanicus. Elements of the Death Guard, Alpha Legion, Word Bearers, Night Lords, and Thousand Sons were also present, backed up by soldiers of the Blood Pact. Multiple Obliterator cults and a Demi-Legio of Chaos Titans were here, flying the banner of the Iron Warriors. They have fortified in depth already, making their network of fortresses a nightmare to take.

When the Guard arrived, their first attempt to establish a foothold on the continent claimed by Chaos was a dismal failure. All of the fortresses have potent artillery batteries with range longer then that of any weapon in the possession of the Guard. They had to camp outside their range, and decided to attempt to sap the walls, tunneling underneath them to either get a strike team in or make them collapse. However, the Iron Warriors had already prepared for this by making several massive tunnels leading into their fortress. The ground was too weak to support any other tunnels, so the Imperial Guard had to use the prepared tunnels of the Iron Warriors. At several points the tunnels grew narrow, making chokepoints, with Iron Warriors garrisoning a guardhouse built into the tunnel walls, and at other points the tunnels were massive, with high ceilings, holding an open killing ground and a fortress, held by enemy forces. The Guard didn't even make it halfway to the enemy fortress they were attacking before they had to turn back. When they resurfaced, they found enemy Titans waiting for them in the form of a pair of Warhounds, accompanying a Reaver. They were saved only by a teleport assault from the Dark Angels that responded alongside Lord Ragnar's company to the request for aid from the Sororitas. We crushed the dark eldar in short order, however the Tau are putting up a fight. The orks and tyranids are both focusing on us, which is a stroke of ill fortune which has set back our plans to deal with the heretics greatly. The Mechanicus landed a force of Titans and super-heavy tanks yesterday, and I know Lord Ragnar has his eyes on acquiring a few of the super-heavy tanks for our company.

"Your orders?" Lord Blackmane asks. "Are you capable of defeating either the ork or the tyranid psykers in mental combat? And if you can defeat the Tyranids, are you capable of seizing control of their hive mind?" He continues, obviously planning something.

"I have ten thousand years of practice with my abilities. I can defeat both at the same time and I've been able to seize control of the Tyranids ever since they arrived in system," I respond.

"Excellent, Harald Frostkin. Defeat the psykers. Turn the tyranids on the orks, and solely on the orks, though if they can be directed at the Tau as well, that would be most helpful," Lord Blackmane smiles. I grin ferally in response. I walked the stars alongside Leman Russ, the first Rune Priest of the Vlka Fenryka. I was trained as a Wolf Priest as well, so I, one of his hands, might maintain the morale of the Legion and heal my brothers of the primarch's Wolf Guard should it be needed. Back in those days, trained Wolf Priests were few, and Russ trusted none not born of Fenris to minister to his Wolf Guard. I trained as an Iron Priest a couple decades into the Crusade, so I might learn to repair all the weapons our primarch broke when he was in one of his foul moods. He regularly ripped the weapons off of tanks and broke them for fun, or would occasionally just break the tank, ripping it apart with his bare hands, not even needing help from his power armor to do such a thing. I have only become able to do so in the last two millennia, due to the fact that as an Astartes grows older, they become less mortal, the blood of their primarch imprinting itself further and further into their genetics. Dante will be over his aging soon, returning to a much younger state, probably within the next decade. Astartes who survived long enough to see two thousand years without becoming Dreadnaughts are usually going to see an even longer life span, as they have age and skill combined with the strength of youth. I survived this long due to luck, sadly enough. One of the Thousand Sons, working in concert with Fabius Bile, managed to capture me so they could run several experiments on grafting further genetics into geneseed.

Into my body, they grafted ork genetics, which made me grow even stronger then I normally would as I got older, and also caused me to grow stronger with every battle I fought, my muscles becoming much denser then normal for Astartes, my bones also growing stronger. Once they finished with the Ork genetics, they began adding Eldar genecode to me, giving me speed and grace to equal one of their warriors, as well as immense psychic prowess. Polymorphine was introduced to my system to see if it would take, along with genetics from the tyranid race. A Lord of Change brought the sorcerer samples from Tyranids to use, and not long after my first encounter with the xenos, I discovered I was something akin to one of their synapse creatures. I am also able to morph my flesh into their bioweapons, and with the addition of the Tyranid genetics, which augmented my omophagea. I now absorb any useful genetics, discarding the trash from my meals, and my body also adapts swiftly to environments, morphing slightly to deal with any surprises. I also gained the ability to digest anything, including adamantium and ceramite if I must.

Once all of these processes were complete, and a ravenous hunger for new genetics to improve myself instilled in me, they attempted to force possession of me. A Bloodthirster, Great Unclean One, Keeper of Secrets, and a Lord of Change each attempted possession of me, first one at a time, and then all at once. I stopped them until they all tried at once, then they succeeded temporarily. I managed to throw them out before a full day had passed though, but the experience forever altered me. My Terminator armor, which I was wearing, had taken on the properties of an Obliterator's armor, absorbing weapons so they could be made into my weapons, grown from the living metal that my armor had become. I became even more powerful psychically, and my aging stopped completely. The warp could no longer touch me, allowing me to use my full psychic power rather then holding something back for fear of possession. I went on a rampage once I was free from the daemons, killing the Chaos Space Marines there, devouring their geneseed, and adding their useful genetics and memories to my own. The sorcerous abilities of sorcerers from each cult of the Thousand Sons, the siegecraft of an Iron Warriors Warsmith, the covert operations abilities of an Alpha Legion captain, a master of subtly destroying the enemy. Fabius unleashed a pair of Horus clones he had made, but they were inferior to the original, and I had grown too powerful. I killed them and feasted, growing stronger with each bite. Shortly after, I found I was registered as dead, and found the prospect of a welcome back to the fold unlikely. I infiltrated the eldar, training in the arts of their seers and aspect warriors, growing stronger with each passing day.

When I rejoined the Imperium, it was much different from what I remembered. I began fighting alongside the Guard, or other Astartes Chapters, depending on what I currently felt like doing, faking my death every so often. I was even one of the highest level members of the Mechanicus for a time, before I grew bored of that. I sated my hunger for improvement to my genes with geneseed every so often, gathering the memories of those who spawned this geneseed as well as any useful abilities of that Chapter. 100 years ago, I rejoined the Space Wolves, and Lord Blackmane figured out that I was older then I said shortly after my first fight alongside his company. I told him all when he asked, and found myself in his Wolf Guard soon after. I later found out he confirmed my identity with Bjorn, and he was presumably suitably impressed when he found out I was the primarch's champion, which role I now fill for him.

"Lord, the tyranids, Tau, and orks will be fighting each other within a day, leaving the Imperium unharmed by their squabble," I vow, and stalk out of the tent, heading for my tent, where I have stored several items that will enhance my psychic powers. An hour after I leave Lord Blackmane's tent, the heads of ork psykers, Nobs, and Bosses start exploding. All are tuned into the Ork's psychic abilities more then the common ork, and so are easy to pick out and kill. Within two more hours, not a single enemy Mek Boss, Warboss, Nob, or psyker is left, their units left without leadership. With my enhanced hearing, I pick up the sound of bolter fire from the nearest ork camp, grin, and turn my attention to the Tau. I find one of their soldiers, get the identities of the commanders of this force, and implant a mission in his mind, instructing him to kill all officers above the rank of sergeant in the Tau forces, reaching out and planting this mission in the minds of several other Tau as well. I also instruct them to kill anyone else who could take command should it be required, and leave them to it for the moment. Now for the tyranids, who will be the most difficult. I reach into their minds and feel a deep, unending hunger for biomass, a need so strong that it drowns out all else. I find their psykers in the hive mind swiftly, and begin my duel with them, ripping apart their defenses, then killing them one by one. This rather tedious task, which has to be done carefully to keep the entire hive mind from being brought to bear against me, takes almost five hours of my time. Once their psykers are dead, I find the rest of the synapse creatures and begin implanting two things. One is a deep seated fear of humans, a fear so strong that a Hive Tyrant would turn and run rather than face down a single Imperial Guardsman. The other is an equally deep seated belief that ork and Tau biomass is the most suitable for strengthening the swarm. Finally, almost as a side note, I implant the locations of every single Tau and Ork world in their heads and give them a list of targets that will allow them to build up strength to move on to kill even more of those xenos. I make the new aspects of their psyche hereditary, and after a little consideration, add a similar fear of the eldar, while also adding the dark eldar to the list of targets for this hive fleet, as well as instructing them in how to strike at the nests of the dark eldar. I then end my work, and return to my own body, immediately leaving to inform Lord Blackmane.

"Is it done?" He asks the moment I come to stand by the bonfire with the rest of the company. This world's nights are long, a full eighty-four hours of darkness, during which we halt our fighting for the simple fact that the mortals are unable to support us during this time. When the night falls, the predators lurking in the forests of this world come out to hunt the plains, and they have no trouble taking down the Guardsmen. Their hides are extremely strong, so nothing short of an autocannon or lascannon can hurt them in the hands of the Guardsmen. A plasma gun or meltagun can also do it, but those are sadly rarer among the Guardsmen here, along with the heavy blotters and missile launchers that would also do the trick. If we move out at any time during the night hours, we will lose at least a thousand men to the predators here, and since the mortals are all but useless in the dark even if we do accept these losses, the campaign halts when night falls. The orks, Tau, tyranids, and Chaos seem to have decided on doing the same thing, simply because the predators, massive feline beasts, with fangs the size of power swords, a full grown example of these creatures being equal in size to, if not larger then, a Baneblade super-heavy tank. I believe Lord Blackmane also intends to bring a few of these creatures home to Fenris, as they have apparently been proven to be able to survive on almost any type of world before. He already has made a pet of one of these beasts, and I believe he intends to join the Thunderwolf Cavalry, with this creature, named a Nox Venator by him, as they were unnamed before, replacing the Thunderwolf.

"It is done. The tyranids are no more threat to us. The Tau will have their command structure falling apart by now, and the orks are already fighting amongst themselves, as I'm sure you can hear," I respond. He nods, then I'm crowded by Long Fangs and Gray Hunters who want to hear of the ancient days of the Crusade. After he figured it out and confirmed it, Ragnar announced my true age and whose champion I once was to the entire Chapter. After Bjorn confirmed it, I found myself rarely being able to escape the Long Fangs and Gray Hunters who had cooled their heads enough to appreciate the wisdom of the past that had now found someone who remembered those days and wasn't a Dreadnaught, so couldn't escape their questions. Even Grimnar joined them after a few days. Everyone in the Chapter is extremely respectful of me for my age and triumphs, but I find it grates after a few hours in their presence. However, there is nothing better for me to do, so I begin a tale about the Crusade, only to be stopped and asked to help fill in some of the details of my saga from after the Crusade. Apparently Lord Blackmane and a couple of the Long Fangs recorded my full tale, which I told him once he figured out my true age, and now they want to finish writing my saga up to now tonight. During the clarification of my tale, I remember several notable parts of it, one of the more recent ones involving Lord Blackmane.

"Remember the time I got you to take me into the warp, Harald?" Lord Blackmane asks. I nod. I had discovered a way into the realms of the Chaos Gods, and Lord Blackmane got me to guide him through the Maze of Tzeentch and into the Impossible Fortress, which we only survived entering because I had stolen the tricks of keeping mortals alive there from the Lord of Change that tried to possess me. Shortly after we arrived, we left the Fortress and Maze as swiftly as possible, having set fire to Tzeentch's library and Lord Blackmane having punched said Chaos God in the face. Repeatedly, so we fled before we got over his surprise. Behind us as we fled, we heard the god laughing, apparently amused at our nerve. At least until he discovered his library was burning, then there were shrieks of rage aplenty, and vows of vengeance upon Lord Blackmane. Tzeentch apparently blamed him, though I did refuse to take part in the burning of the library, so maybe that's why he was the only one blamed.

We ended up in Khorne's realm shortly afterwards, where I managed to get into a drinking contest with Angron, Kharn, Skulltaker, An'ggrath, and Khorne himself. I got truly, amazingly drunk, and slugged Khorne in the face. However, instead of using my fist, I used a corrupted Imperator Titan. I won the drinking contest, Khorne taking a liking to me afterwards, and has since been trying to convince me that becoming a Daemon Prince is an excellent choice for my future.

After we fled that realm, Lord Blackmane having been enjoying watching the drinking contest, we stumbled into the Mansion of Nurgle, where we were welcomed as if we were Nurgle's long lost sons, presumably because of our burning of Tzeentch's library. We were given run of the mansion, and actually enjoyed our time there, as the Nurglings at least know how to make good alcohol, don't ask me how they picked that up, because I don't want to know. We left on good terms, with a standing invitation to return any time from the plague lord himself, who has apparently taken an interest in us, which presumably accounts for the refusal to engage us from the Death Guard. They'll fight any Astartes here who isn't a Space Wolf, but no Death Guard member will do anything other then protect themselves from the attacks of one of us, not retaliate, so Lord Blackmane gave orders not to engage the Death Guard to the company.

Finally, before we left the warp, we ran into the Palace of Slaanesh, where we were greeted, guided through the circles to the Dark God's palace, and greeted by an avatar of the god, which allowed us to keep from becoming his/her/it's slave. We were feasted lavishly, given many gifts, and sent away in peace, apparently as a thank you from Slaanesh for slugging Khorne in the face with an Imperator Titan. Slaanesh has been making regular offers of becoming a Daemon Prince ever since then, which I have been careful to refuse politely. I ran into Abaddon on the way out, slugged him and knocked him to the ground, then just walked past. I blame the wines Slaanesh had me drink, as I was still somewhat drunk at the time. When we returned and the Rune Priests verified the tale, the Blood Claws began considering us to be heroes, and I believe a couple of them declared us Imperial Saints. At the very least, we have a cult following among the Blood Claws, which is rather flattering. I sense another approaching, check who it is, and sigh. When we left the warp, we had a guest with us, who we brought from Nurgle's realm. Ever since we freed her, she has refused to go far from me, as she is still somewhat traumatized from her time in captivity.

"Hello Isha, come to hear a few tales from an old Astartes?" I ask slightly wearily. I haven't slept for the last few months, so I just want to grab a few hours of true sleep. I notice that forty-three hours have passed in the completion of my saga, from the time I was reborn as a Space Wolf to this very day. The Eldar goddess nods, sitting down next to me, and removing my helm as she does so. I shifted my armor to power armor and made myself roughly a meter shorter once I joined my fellow brethren so as not to crush the seats they brought, and now Isha takes advantage of my smaller size, only three meters tall when standing, to remove my helm and lay one of her hands on my face. I feel energy flood me, and send a silent thanks to her for renewing my strength.

"I am," she says in a voice that sounds like music, pure and perfect. I bask in the feeling of peace that accompanies her every word, as her voice is naturally laced with psychic power. Peace is too rare to object to its source, and I silently lay a hand on the Eldar goddess' shoulder, silencing those who were about to object to her presence as I launch into a tale from the Crusade, involving one of Russ' many stunts. This one involves him charging a Titan Legion in his underwear after they woke him up from a nap. One of the better parts of it involves Russ headbutting a Warlord Titan, after which it actually fell over. Russ then proceeded to use it as a flail, and shortly afterwards the rebellious Forge World was pacified, all thanks to the primarch being grumpy when he didn't get enough sleep. When the tale finishes, Isha begins laughing with the rest of the Wolves, her laugh beautiful and flawless, as befits her. A Guardsman races into our camp, shouting for Lord Blackmane and disturbing our amusement a moment later, and halts, going for his lasgun when he sees Isha, who naturally appears as a female Eldar. Without an order being necessary, the Long Fangs instantly have weapons trained on him, as Gray Hunters and Blood Claws form a solid wall of ceramite, adamantium, and flesh in front of her, weapons ready. Some of us may object to her presence, but our Wolf Lord, Ragnar Blackmane, has accepted her under his protection upon my request, and so it is a private matter, which mortals have no say in, so every single Astartes of the company will protect her to uphold our lord's honor.

"What is your message, mortal?" I growl, advancing with rune axe and a storm bolter at the ready.

"An Eldar delegation approaches sir. Under a message of truce sir. They're asking for a Harald Frostkin, and it was thought he was a Space Wolf, so Lord Blackmane might know who he is, sir," The mortal says, bowing deeply, fear rolling off of him. I stalk forward, lowering my weapons.

"I am Harald Frostkin. Lead me to these Eldar," I snarl. Isha steps over to join me along with Lord Blackmane, followed moments later by the Wolf Guard.

"Sir, if I might ask, why would the Eldar want to speak with you?" The mortal asks me as we approach the gathering of Space Marines, Sororitas, Inquisitors, Mechanicus priests, Ecclesiarchy priests, and Imperial Guard currently meeting with the Eldar. Isha answers before I can, in a rather amused tone.

"He is the oldest of your Space Marines here, having lived in the time of your Emperor," Isha replies. "He was also the champion of one of his sons, Leman Russ I believe," she continues.

"I did have temporary secondments to other Legions where I served their primarch directly as champion, these secondments including the Thousand Sons, Alpha Legion, Luna Wolves, Ultramarines, Imperial Fists, Salamanders, Blood Angels, and Dark Angels. I knew all of the primarchs fairly well, as the Emperor would call meetings of his sons every so often, and Russ usually brought me with him. I knew the Emperor fairly well also, met him several times, got into a game of shot for shot with him once after a drinking contest, both of which I won," I say proudly. I'm opening my mind to the psykers here, who swiftly nod in confirmation of my statements, upon which the looks of shock turn to looks of awe, and several people start falling to their knees before me, among them the priests of the Ecclesiarchy, the Sororitas, the Inquisitors, and the Imperial Guardsmen all around who are rather busy either bowing or kneeling, and the members of the Mechanicus aren't far behind. The Space Marines here are all bowing in respect for my age, though the bows are slight, due to them being in armor. Dante of the Blood Angels, who brought three companies from his chapter here after hearing a rumor about Fabius Bile being here, which was confirmed not long ago, steps forward.

"Lord Frostkin, as I assume you are, might I request of you a favor?" He asks. I nod, guessing what he wants, and my guess is confirmed a moment later when he continues. "Tell me of my primarch. Not of the idealized version we hold to now, but who he was at other times, when he was at peace," Dante requests. I nod, agreeing to do so.

"We shouldn't be breaking camp to go and fight for a few days anyways. Just finished causing trouble between the Tau, orks, and tyranids, and we need to let that settle a bit before we do anything. Give it a week by this world's time, and things should have settled," I say, and all present nod.

"Of course sir," the Guard general in charge here agrees swiftly. I see his question however as to how I did so, and decide to indulge him and answer.

"I was not only Russ' champion, but also his Rune Priest, our equivalent to other Chapter's Librarians," I tell him. "I have had ten thousand years to refine my abilities, so setting those three against each other while having them avoid the humans was no trouble at all for me," I tell him. He nods, swiftly understanding. Several Librarians are quietly and clearly resolving to request the privilege of studying with me to learn some of my tricks, which I intend to agree to do. "We have time for me to share my stories from the Great Crusade with you due to this, which should occupy some of my time," I tell them. "I'll be in the camp I was just summoned from if you intend to hear a few stories from me," I tell them, and I see swift nods, and several mortals start heading towards the camp, clearly intending to wait for me to return.

The Eldar delegation approaches me, an Avatar of Khaine and all of the Phoenix Lords, including Irillyth of the Shadow Spectres and the thought missing Drastanta of the Shining Spears. I note Jain Zar's presence and nod to her, as we always got along rather well when we met before. I note several Phoenix Lords I haven't run into before and who are unknown to the Imperium as I raise a laser lance I swiftly generate from my armor in salute to the lord of the Shining Spears, who raises his weapon in salute to me as well. I assume they are Phoenix Lords long dormant and that's why we haven't met, but I'll wait until I can speak to them before I settle on that as the sole possibility. I note Drazhar among them and silently question why he is here, directing my question to Jain Zar, who is the most likely to actually answer me. We're old friends, and have fought back to back several times before. Multiple times before, she has shown up to request my aid, and I have always answered, going to war with all my might and ancient fury, summoning storms the likes of which Njal cannot even imagine being able to call.

Lightning bolts powerful enough to split continents and howling winds strong enough to rip a Titan to tiny shreds in seconds answer my call in a heartbeat when I go to war, a mighty storm that consumes a world and leaves none but my allies left alive. This diminished age is not able to field anything that can match me, a warrior born of the Great Crusade, of an age of power and glory, when gods walked among mortals, and I stood as champion of one of those gods. When I go to war, I am the incarnation of great and terrible powers born of a mightier time, the essence of warfare. I strike with my empty hand, and companies of enemy infantry die as my psychic might magnifies the strike, turning it into a razor wind that slices through infantry and tank alike. I bring my sword down, and fortress walls shatter. There is nothing short of a C'tan Shard that can hope to contest my full might in this age, and everything that can actually sense my power knows this very, very well. The Phoenix Lords are similarly powerful if they feel like displaying their might, as is the Avatar, which I relish. Having no equals would be far too boring for me.

"Lord Khaine called us here in our entirety, including Arhra, now known as Drazhar," Jain Zar explains as she leaps over to stand by my side. "However, if it comes to battle, I will stand with you. You have been my ally before, and I remember my friends," she assures me. I nod thankfully to her and move myself slightly, summoning my Terminator armor so as to shield her and Isha with my bulk. One of the Farseers accompanying the Avatar and Phoenix Lords speaks.

"Return unto us what is ours. The runes spoke and said you had recovered a relic of the Eldar from before the fall, and we will have it returned to us immediately," she declares. Isha moves from behind me, coming into clear view, and the Avatar stumbles back, clearly shocked.

"Not a what, but a who. They seized me from Nurgle's grasp, and I will stay with Harald. I would not feel safe in the webway, on a Craftworld, or in the warp," Isha declares.

**"Isha," **the Avatar rumbles, and the Phoenix Lords, along with the other Eldar, drop to their knees. She moves behind me again, so it appears as if they are bowing to me. She is an unbroken Eldar goddess, who could defeat me if she ever went to war, and I could likely defeat everyone else here with Jain Zar guarding my back. Throw in Ragnar, who seems to be a throwback to the time of the Crusade, being just as strong as I was at that age, and this fight would inevitably end in my victory. Ragnar developed psychic abilities not long after I became his champion, a full ninety-five Terran years ago. I've been tutoring him in private, and his training is almost complete, the rest of what he needs to learn he'll have to figure out himself. **"So, you are free. Return to us, let myself and my warriors be your shield, rather then this human," **he growls, lifting his spear. I lift my rune axe, lightning beginning to spark on it.

"No," Isha replies. "I will not return. Harald freed me, and I will trust him to see to my safety. Jain Zar, will you agree to assist him in this?" She asks kindly. There is not a second between her question and the answer.

"Of course. I have fought back to back with Frostkin before, and he is indeed a fell warrior, the Storm of Wrath," Jain Zar names me, and I smile behind my helm, sending a flicker of approval to her.

**"Storm of Silence, you would give him such a name, that titles him as an Phoenix Lord is properly titled?" **Khaine asks. Jain Zar nods, and Khaine looks at me in an evaluating manner for several moments, then nods in approval. I silently speak with Jain Zar for a moment, mind to mind, then my armor morphs along with me, as my body slims slightly, my armor becoming power armor again and shifting to a blend between Imperial and Eldar styles, a gauntlet mounted storm bolter on my left hand, a rune axe in my right. A meltagun and plasma gun in the Eldar styles are at my hips, an Eldar lascannon and missile launcher strapped to my back. I consider, then shift the storm bolter to replace it with a shuriken catapult and power claw combination, my other gauntlet having a heavy flamer mounted on it. A teleport generator is clearly integrated into my armor, and a laser lance and Death Spinner join the missile launcher and lascannon. I cradle a Distortion Cannon in my arms, meaning to have that as the main weapon of my shrine, rune axe now gone, replaced with a force sword at my hip. Vortex and plasma grenades are clear at my hip, and my helm has mandiblasters and psychosonic emitters mounted on it. A massive jetbike is generated from my armor, and I shift the lascannon to it, along with the missile launcher, abandoning them as personal weapons and instead making them twin linked jetbike mounted gear. After a moment's consideration, I decide to keep plasma and fusion guns for secondary infantry weapons, with the Distortion Cannon always being the main weapon. I set a pair of laser lances onto the bike, shifted so they have three firing options, which allows them to function as either lasweapons, plasma weapons, or melta weapons. My D-Cannon is set across the back, and an anti-grav pack from the Swooping Hawks takes its place as part of my wargear, Death Spinner now hanging at my side. Lightning crackles around me, a tempest beginning to form as my psychic abilities are wakened. My armor is a dark gray, with blue highlights in some places.

"Is this suitable?" I ask the Avatar, and he nods in approval. "Then my warriors will be the Storm Wolves, and I will establish my first shrine here. Send me students, and I will send you warriors," I tell him, and he nods once more. One of the Mechanicus adepts addresses me a moment later, interrupting my thoughts of how to train my Aspect.

"Sir, might I ask if you would be willing to allow us to carry out work on the Titans and tanks we brought that would take a considerable amount of time, but would allow us to bring them back into full fighting trim, rather than making repairs that are meant to be temporary but so often need to work for longer then intended?" He asks.

"How long would it take?" I ask curiously. I intend to grant the request, just to buy myself time to train my Aspect.

"One full year of this planet," he responds. Seven Terran years then. I nod in approval, and gesture at the Titans. "You approve then?" He cautiously seeks to confirm. I nod again, and he bows deeply and leaves to begin his work.

"Sir, that is a long time for Chaos to dig in," an Imperial Guard general cautiously says. I nod and grin savagely.

"They'll dig in all right. But so will we. And their sensors will be unreliable through this world's atmosphere. They won't think we're able to establish strong defenses since we'll be busy with other threats like the tyranids and orks, so they'll come to attack us. Let them have a secure base for now. We'll claim orbit in that time, with the fleet that will be arriving soon, and strike with bombardment and ground assault," I explain. He nods, understanding my logic, and a feral grin appears on his face as well as he begins to understand what I'm getting at. I did learn siegecraft from Perturabo and Dorn during the Crusade, when I asked on Russ' behalf. He was never interested in learning that art, so I did it for him and broke any fortress so he could deal with the destruction of the foe. I was an eager pupil, and I know I'm better then the enemy Warsmith here. I've met him before, and outsmarted him before, both as besieger and besieged. He is impatient, so it's a waiting game for me now.

"Understood sir. But how do you know they'll come out and fight when they don't have any information on us?" He asks curiously.

"I've fought and beaten the enemy Warsmith before. I can do it again without too much trouble. I learned siegecraft from his primarch alongside him, and he was never a good pupil. He's good, but I'm much, much better," I inform the general, who nods and salutes me. I return the salute and turn to leave, followed by the Eldar and the Avatar, who are apparently interested in looking after Isha. I glare at the fallen Phoenix Lord, and make it very clear what will happen should he try anything with a psychic burst of communication sent to him. I will shatter his armor and spirit stone alike, leaving him unable to resurrect, soul trapped in his armor's fragments, without sensation for all time. He nods slowly, confirming that he will cause no trouble for me.

Time passes, and I tell tales from the Crusade to be recorded by the Ecclesiarchy and Mechanicus, gain a cult following among the Sororitas and Guardsmen, with a new Sororitas order, the Maidens of Winter, being approved to form by the Ecclesiarchy. However, this order will be unique, as it is the only Sororitas order that will ever gain approval to recruit psykers. I teach their psykers, who were recruited from Black Ships diverted here when the Inquisitors in command of them were needed to provide information on the Chaos threat, how to call the storm forth, and also work with my new Sororitas order to teach them several combat tricks I've picked up.

My Aspect Warriors receive much more intense training, and within a Terran year, the first of my Exarchs is created, devoured by the Path of the Warrior, becoming a Storm Wolf for all time. Mastering each of the various combat arts of my shrine, using chainsword, force sword, and power claw alike for close combat, using the weapons of the jetbike when riding it, and using the anti-grav pack and teleporter to deep strike for great effect. Adding the ranged weapons into the mix, it is a testament to their ability that my first few Exarchs learned so quickly, and they left soon after to begin their own shrines. The Wolves of the Eldar will carry the storm with them, and strike like lightning, leaving only death and destruction in their wake. I am very proud of them. Four Terran years after my first Exarch left, I hear word that holo-fields and refractor fields have become common usage in my Aspect's shrines, and take to using them myself. The Storm Wolves have been a great success, and I have high hopes for their assisting the Eldar, and the Eldar assisting humanity. I managed to actually get it into the heads of some of the Ecclesiarchy and Inquisition members that xenos doesn't mean enemy, and have pointed said members towards the Necrons and orks as better uses of their time. I also got them to understand that the Eldar Farseers are usually right, and to listen to them to avoid disaster. I also got an agreement from several Craftworlds to have their Farseers scry for threats to the Imperium as well, with Isha backing me up on the matter. Once the squabble between the Tau, orks, and tyranids had calmed a bit, we even set up a temporary truce with the Tau, where we agreed to have representatives of the Imperium go to their homeworld to negotiate a lasting truce. The Emperor wanted humanity to carve its place out, not to necessarily annihilate all other races. The Tau and Eldar will likely be allies before long, and I've already taught several psykers how to play with the tyranid hive mind to properly control them, so we may be able to keep the tyranids around as a race of weapons in the Imperial arsenal. Orks, Dark Eldar, and Necrons have to go, though. When the sixth year of the Mechanicus grand overhaul of the Titans and every single one of the tanks here comes around, the enemy Warsmith finally loses his patience.

"Sir, Castra Alpha is under attack!" A Guardsman shouts as he comes running up to me. I follow Lord Blackmane's orders, but he and the rest of the Imperial forces here have been deferring to my judgment for some time now, due to greater experience and the fact that I actually know what the enemy tactics are likely to be. They haven't changed much since the Crusade, after all. Abaddon is actually quite predictable, and since I managed to join those in command of Imperial forces during the 2nd and 4th Black Crusades, he was quickly dancing to my tune once I figured out his game, though he did throw me a couple of surprises. He hasn't managed to surprise me even once since then though. He planned his failures so far, I know that much. Abaddon is good at what he does, and he had several tricks up his sleeves that he didn't play every time he was defeated. So either he wanted to fail for some reason, or something was playing with him. But enough of that, onto the important parts of the now.

"Good. I wanted them to strike there. Are the armored companies ready?" I ask, and he nods in confirmation. The armored companies of the Imperium will be growing soon, especially after I found out fully just what has happened to the Mechanicus in the last eight thousand years since I bothered being a part of it. I had suspicions of the direction things were going after the Heresy, and have been preparing a very long lecture for the last ten thousand years, which I finally got to deliver a few years ago. A recording was delivered to the Fabricator General himself, I heard, and I found that rather amusing. My rant lasted almost fifteen hundred hours, no stopping, and encompassed a lot of flaws I had seen in the Mechanicus. Last I heard, there were orders given to distribute all military application STCs to all forge worlds, and only the STCs for super heavy tanks and Titans and similar weapons of that scale were to be held back from the worlds which produce weaponry but are not proper forge worlds. Innovation is now also somewhat sanctioned, after a very long lecture on the will of the Emperor regarding innovation during the Crusade. That took up almost a hundred hours and involved more shouting and cursing than any other part of my rant. The Emperor could probably hear me on Terra during that part of the lecture, and we're in the Eastern Fringe of the Imperium. I saw several people taking notes during the parts that involved cursing, which amused me greatly. But now, at least we'll have more super heavy tanks around.

I recorded a similar lecture for the Ultramarines and ever other Codex Chapter, and have had recordings delivered. I did get to give the lecture to Calgar himself though, as he's here in person, and he was rather ashamed of himself. Gulliman intended the Codex to be a guideline to work from, not holy writ, and I made sure to convey that at maximum volume, in the clearest manner possible, taking a full eight hundred hours to do so, and providing numerous examples of where the Codex failed, including several times where it failed to work for Calgar. He didn't show his face to any but the Ultramarines for the next week after that, though an accompanying rant on the failures of the Tactica Imperialis cheered him slightly. My three lectures took three thousand hours all told, and actually made people start thinking again. Praise the Allfather, there are still working minds in the Imperium.

"Yes sir, the armor is ready. What are the orders?" The messenger asked. I take a look at the data-slate he gives me, and decide to bring out a less used Crusade tactic made by me.

"Fist of the Storm," I command. That will practically scream out that I'm here. No one outside the Iron Warriors who isn't me knows how to execute that tactic, and it wouldn't be recognized by anyone not of the Traitor Legions. I used it a lot, and it's rather effective. Instead of an artillery barrage coming before an armored advance, the armor advances during the barrage, the artillery stopping about five seconds before the tanks arrive. The enemy is entrenched, so with their heads down to keep the artillery from getting them, they'll never notice the armored advance.

One little trick I threw into the formation is the weapons used. First wave of armor is Leman Russ tanks with flamestorm cannon as their main weapon and heavy flamer sponsons, followed closely by a second wave of Leman Russ Annihilators, Executioners, Exterminators, Demolishers, Destroyer Tank Hunters, and another Leman Russ variant equipped with an oversized multi-melta for its main gun. The Demolishers, Annihilators, Destroyers, and multi-melta armed tanks take out whatever fortifications survived, while the Executioners and Exterminators kill anything that survived the flame attack that then leaves the trenches. Super heavy tanks form the third wave, accompanied by Land Raiders and Predators of several variants, with a Whirlwind and Basilisk barrage covering the advance of the third wave. Land Speeders close in on their sides, preventing escape while Razorbacks provide ranged support to the Land Speeders. The Land Raiders of the first wave are usually carrying Devastator Marines, whose job it is to occupy the trench line that's just been taken by the first and second waves and provide covering fire. Assault Marines and warbikes follow shortly after that, taking advantage of covering fire from Devastators. Behind the Land Speeders, Tactical Marines are disembarking from the Razorbacks and closing any gaps in the line made by the lightning strike preceding them.

It also has one other twist. A teleport assault from Terminators and Dreadnaughts, beacons provided by special artillery shells lobbed in carrying said beacons. The teleport ends right in the middle of the enemy lines, and the enemy is split facing the hammer of the first assault, while the Terminators hold off the rest of the enemy force, which is either their front lines turning to face us, as it will be this time, or the rearguard turning to face us. Either way, the enemy dies en masse. It is a reckless assault, and Russ loved it. It swiftly became a signature for him, though I was known to have developed it. Its use by the Imperium now will tell the enemy Warsmith who's commanding here very clearly. He's committed almost everything now, the Death Guard having left this world a year ago in search of a better fight. That was a bad move for him. The Alpha Legion has apparently deserted, I am told as I arrive at the command post where I'm to coordinate this attack. The Guard will follow behind the Marines, deal with any cleanup that must be done. I laugh as I hear of the Alpha Legion deserting the Warsmith, and tune into the enemy vox channels a moment later. I hear the frantic shouts of enemy commanders describing the attack on them to their commander, Warsmith Toramino. He hears the full description, then spits out one word.

"Frostkin," he snarls. "Harald Frostkin is here. A loyalist, he lived during the time of the Great Crusade. He isn't a Dreadnaught, I can tell you that much. I had no idea he was still alive. Retreat if possible, this tactic was a favorite of his, and he clearly hasn't lost his touch. Now that it's gotten this far along, it can't be stopped, only avoided." There are swift confirmations and reports of enemy withdrawal start coming in, which is music to my ears. "I know you're listening, Frostkin. You've won this siege, I admit that. But I'll give you one chance to avoid the death of this planet. I've already prepared everything to kill this world, but I'll make a deal. I will disarm the system right now. You may even do it yourself if you want. Teleport to my fortress, the greatest stronghold of Chaos on this planet. You can ensure it is done to your satisfaction. Then you and I duel. If I win, I will have the satisfaction of finally bringing you down. If you win, the forces of Chaos here will withdraw in totality. I, and all my servants, will give binding oaths to that effect. Are these terms acceptable?" He asks me, knowing my answer. He knows he can't win. He just wants to go out in a blaze of glory rather than be an utter failure.

"Yes. I arrive in fifteen minutes," I tell him, and he acknowledges, then closes the channel. Isha insists on accompanying me, and she is capable of extracting herself if need be. I teleport into the fortress a few minutes later, receive the oaths, dismantle the system Toramino set up, then prepare for my duel. When I meet Toramino, I find he has Lucius and Ahriman beside him, Kharn standing off to the side of the battlefield. Kharn raises his axe in a salute to me, which I return, then I turn my attention to the duel. Lucius will fight close in, Ahriman will fight with sorcery, and Toramino will use ranged weaponry most likely. Kharn will probably stay out of this, and Typhus isn't here. I decide on my course of action, shift to Terminator armor, summon a rune axe and plasma cannon, and attack as the enemy begins to charge me. I parry Lucius' first blow and throw him into a wall with a mighty wind, and I hear the sound of bones breaking inside Lucius' armor as I charge Toramino.

"Iron Within! Iron Without!" He roars, storm bolter firing at me. My rune axe bats aside the bolts as I halt bolts of psychic lightning from Ahriman with a shield of power, my plasma cannon firing at Toramino, searing his arm off, and my rune axe falls a moment later, removing his other arm and then his head, as a mighty storm is summoned by me as I turn to combat Ahriman, bolts of lightning and fire searing between us, spells of great power being exchanged by two masters of the psychic arts even as we use electricity and flame to mask our spells. Mental combat is intense, a thousand blows being struck, blocked, and returned every second of the battle. I almost absentmindedly bat aside Lucius's strikes at me while occupied with Ahriman.

"Perfection and Death!" Lucius calls, sounding his personal warcry, as Ahriman occupies my psychic abilities. I hear vaguely the sound of a Terminator armored foe charging at me, and snarl.

"Kill for the living! Kill for the dead!" Abaddon calls, voicing his personal warcry as well. I curse, and devote more force to shattering Ahriman's mind. The fortress around us is in ruins, the might of four Astartes from the age of the Great Crusade making itself known. I barely block the blows of Abaddon and Lucius, and know I'm in trouble when a chainaxe suddenly takes Lucius' head from his shoulders. Kharn salutes me once more, and vanishes, presumably taken to place Lucius' skull upon Khorne's throne. Now I can deal with Abaddon. A lightning bolt strikes from above, a continent vaporizing bolt attempting to strike Ahriman down. As he desperately tries to stop it, I strike him with a spell that will end him, body and soul. Or to be more exact, cast him into the warp and right into the realm the Emperor has carved out, which will end him anyways. The Emperor can't abide traitors, and will see the destruction of Ahriman as a benefit to the Imperium. Ahriman's last living act is to create a warp vortex and send me into it, pulling the stones beneath my feet to force me within, as he couldn't affect me directly. Abaddon vanishes as Marines charge into the fortress, my last sight of the Imperium being Lord Blackmane's sword sweeping towards his neck before he vanishes, the blade thudding into the stones. My last sight of the Eldar is Jain Zar and Isha charging towards the portal made by Ahriman, attempting to grab me as Lord Blackmane turns and sees what is about to happen. The last thing I hear from him is a howl of sorrow and loss as I vanish into the warp, this vortex meant to leave me somewhere far from the Imperium, probably in a different galaxy or dimension entirely. The last thing I hear before the warp takes all my senses from me is a bell tolling, and a mighty voice, the Emperor's voice, speaking.

**"Harald Frostkin is fallen. A thousand times he was a hero, so a thousand times I declare that the Bell of Lost Souls must sound in mourning, and a black candle must be lit in the Chapel of Fallen Heroes,"** the Emperor declares, and I am filled with joy that my actions have mattered so much for the Imperium. **"Rest now hero. Your war is done, peace is yours at last." **With that, I fall unconscious, battered by the warp.

_**Time passes, and Harald wakes just as he falls out of the other side of the warp portal**_

"Where am I?" I groan as I jolt to full wakefulness, having been dropped on a pile of rocks. Damn you for that Ahriman, one last unpleasant experience for me caused by you. I rise slowly, concealed by the outcropping of rocks I was dumped behind, which is fortunately large enough to conceal my four and a half meter in power armor bulk. In Terminator armor, I add a solid meter to that, making me stand very nearly the size of a Dreadnaught unless I shift my size a bit to make myself smaller. I hear screams from nearby, and take a look. A massive beast, the size of a Baneblade, is attacking humans. Its lower body is that of a spider, with four massive hairy legs supporting it. Its dark black skin has several sharp points protruding from it, and is very clearly heavily armored from the way the human's weapons are failing to harm the creature. Two extra arms protrude from the humanoid upper body, ending in poisoned scythes, and it is clear that the beast has 360 degree vision, so I assume it has eight eyes. It screeches in rage at the defenders of the small town I see is not a hundred meters from where the battle rages, and I prepare for combat. The humans must be aided, as clearly the mortals are incapable of dealing with this abomination. I shift my armor to my massive Terminator gear, as I will require the protection and power for entering close combat with this creature. A set of wolf claws, with a gauntlet mounted storm bolter, appears on my left hand. My other hand clutches a massive plasma cannon which will burn through any natural armor this creature has. I break into a lumbering charge, smashing aside the rocks that concealed me.

**"KILL FOR THE LIVING! KILL FOR THE DEAD!"** I roar, plasma cannon spitting death along with the storm bolter roaring fury. The creature reels, one of its scythe arms burnt away by plasma, the other blasted away by storm bolter fire. As I finish closing on the creature, massive craters swiftly blasted into it by more storm bolter fire, and one of its legs destroyed by another bolt from my plasma cannon, I shift my weaponry to a simple pair of wolf claws, crackling with power. I rip into the beast, my massive bulk and weight crashing into the creature, forcing it back, wolf claws ripping into its chest and tearing out its heart as my other set of wolf claws eviscerates the beast. I tear off its head as it shrieks in agony, and throw the head to the ground, leaping back from the beast. I dismiss my Terminator armor as I alter my form, shrinking to a more manageable two and a half meters, and replace my Terminator gear with carapace armor. Time to meet the locals, I suppose.

_**The rewrite has begun. I felt like providing more of a glimpse into the 40k verse then I did **_**_originally, so decided to write all that in. There is very little in this new world that can seriously threaten Harald, so expect curbstomping of any enemies. Seriously, 10,000 plus year old psyker, who grows more powerful every year, vs. some team of human criminals. Who do you think the winner is, especially when that psyker is also a Space Marine. Hope you enjoy this new version, and I will try to have more chapters out soon. I welcome any and all input from you, and thank you for reading. Please review, thank you._**


	2. Chapter 2

_**A**** New Realm**_

_**A Warhammer 40k and pokegirls crossover  
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_**Disclaimer: Refer to chapter 1 for disclaimer.**_

_**Chapter 2**_

"Thank you for killing that Widow sir," a human female says. She is moving towards me, likely braver then the rest. Her hair is in two bright colors, silver and sapphire. I assume it is dyed, but I've seen stranger natural hair colors. "I'm Elizabeth, and might I ask who you are?" She carefully requests of me.

"I am Harald Frostkin, champion of Leman Russ, primarch of the Vlka Fenryka, the sixth of the twenty Legiones Astartes, mortal," I respond. "It was a pleasure to kill that beast for you," I continue.

"Still, thank you. It was about to attack the nursery when we engaged it, but we couldn't stop it, and there wasn't any time to evacuate..." she is cut off as I snarl, the sound enhanced by psychic power unconsciously summoned. Allfather damn these mutants, striking at even the most innocent subjects of the Emperor. I can't sense His light in the warp, so he presumably either isn't here or isn't active here, but children are still children.

"It was my pleasure to kill that abomination. What world is this?" I ask, voice rich with satisfaction at having thwarted that creature.

"Earth. The world is Earth. You're currently in the Ruby league, or to be more exact, at Frostfir Town," she says. I groan, then launch into a string of curses and other maledictions against Ahriman sufficient to make Khorne think I'm overdoing it with how throughly I'm damning Ahriman. He sent me into another universe entirely, damn him. "The year is 300 A.S., or 2302 AD, if that helps." It doesn't. My curses become louder, more virulent, and I begin to curse in multiple languages at the same time, dipping into my store of the curse words from daemonic languages to make my meaning exquisitely clear. Back thirty-nine thousand years, onto an entirely different Terra, with everyone thinking I'm dead. How am I supposed to return to my Chapter and duty now? "Sir, could you please stop cursing and explain why you're so angry?" The mortal, no, Elizabeth, asks.

"I was forcibly brought here from another time and dimension. This is Terra, thirty-nine thousand years before I was sent here. Twenty-nine thousand years before I was born," I inform her. She nods in understanding, and I see another nearby female, carrying an axe and a longsword, take a quick glance at me, which lingers on the scars I have exposed by my carapace armor. She has long red hair, is slim but well muscled, and has several exposed scars, clearly from battle. She has solid color eyes, the irises being a slightly lighter shade then the pupils. Her eyes are mismatched in color, one being sapphire, the other emerald, and after she sees the more prevalent scars on me, a scent of arousal is very clear from her.

"So this place isn't your home then?" Elizabeth asks, and I shake my head. "Then I need to tell you everything. There's a lot of history behind this world that you need to know," she says as she grabs my arm and begins to drag me towards the town.

"I can walk on my own, you know," I tell her, but she disregards me. Casually, I reach into the warp, slow the flow of time around me, slip out of her grasp, and walk at a carefully measured pace to the town. She experiences one second for every hour I experience, so since the town is only a hundred meters away, a distance taking me barely two minutes to walk, when I allow time to return to normal, barely half a second has passed, and I'm standing at the edge of the town looking rather bored. She audibly gasps in surprise at this, and I smile slightly. A relatively minor exercise of psychic power, proving that my vast well of personal might is still there, and I have the full power of the entire Warp to draw on, since nothing else is...drawing power from it. There's nothing there. No other psykers. A few beings that draw on it indirectly, but nothing else.

I will have to be very careful. If I draw too much power from the warp, I'll turn myself into a full blown god rather then a mere psyker who is comparable in power to one. My personal store of power is enough to summon a warp storm sufficient to engulf an entire Segmentum, and was more then enough in M36 to start the Storm of the Emperor's Wrath. Maintaining it wasn't hard either, the warp currents there were easy to stir up in a way that would make them stay that way. The storm will probably fade in another thousand years though. I was ordered by the Allfather to start stirring up warp storms around then. He wanted the Ecclesiarchy brought back under control, and I got stuck as his tool for doing so. I had to keep myself concealed, while traveling, stirring and calming warp storm after warp storm. Without anyone realizing my hand in events, which was difficult at that time. I was far less powerful then, but I grew much stronger during that time as I exerted my powers again and again.

I was skirting the edge of daemonhood several times there though. If someone absorbs enough psychic power, they can quite easily cease existence as a being of flesh and become instead a creature of the warp. It's rare that someone can do this, but it's happened before, and will likely happen again. As a psyker grows older, this becomes less likely, as their threshold for power increases. It also increases as they use their power more, allowing their workings to become larger as time goes on. Space Marine Librarians are the ones most likely to have it happen to them, but a couple mortals have had it occur at one point or another. Now I need to be very careful though, as without anything else using any of the power of the warp, there's nothing to prevent the full power of that realm from answering my call for a very minor bit of power.

"How did you do that?" Elizabeth asks as she finally catches up, accompanied by the red haired female I saw a bit earlier.

"I am one of the Adeptus Astartes, an Imperial Space Marine," I respond.

"I think we both need an explanation of each other's worlds," Elizabeth says. I nod in agreement, and open the links in my armor to the nearby machines, beginning litanies of appeasement to the machine spirits, my next words spoken in binary, calling upon the machine spirits to provide me with data, as well as providing them with all necessary data on the Imperium and its situation, so Elizabeth can access them for the data rather then requiring explanations from me. A few moments later, I snarl in distaste as I go over the information on how these 'pokegirls' were created, but I judge them to not be mutants after a minor internal debate. I consider all possible careers for me, and decide against researching pokegirls, dealing with a ranch, or keeping pets. Most other occupations include them, and the only one that would provide a reasonable degree of travel along with possibly decent fights is the role classified as 'Tamer,' so I decide to take that up. I take another 3.010009463 seconds to finish reviewing the data on this world, call up the test for new Tamers, spend 6.772019381 seconds completing it and quintuple checking my answers, as well as shunting it over to a logic engine I acquired from an unsalvageable Ark Mechanicus, which contains the entirety of the vessel's machine spirit and knowledge. Ever since, it has been highly useful, as I am still able to access the massive computing power of the Ark Mechanicus, without needing to fully manifest all of the massive array of interlinked logic engines and data storage medium that I arranged to store the mighty spirit in before I absorbed them into my armor. It checks my answers, finds them fully satisfactory, appends notations to each answer that show where they can be improved to show more than adequate knowledge, and returns it to me. I spend 0.622153906 seconds reviewing the notations and adding the needed data, then send it back into the computer system here, marked for the nearest researcher, with a secondary priority marking attached.

"I completed a data upload to your computers. You will find a history of the Imperium on them, as well as other interesting bits of data," I inform her. "I have also gone over the data on this world, decided to be a Tamer, as you call the males that deal with these feral pokegirls, and completed the test, which I have sent in to a professor with a secondary priority marking. Ave Deus Mechanicus," I finish, making the sign of the cog. Elizabeth looks shocked, obviously surprised by my superior ability to process data.

The red haired female nods and begins travel towards the medicae, where the data will be most easily found. I follow, as does Elizabeth and the crowd that gathered as she and the other female, whose name is recorded in the local data, moved to join me. I search the local data for her and find {Thera, Gladiatrix, unregistered} as her notation. I review the Gladiatrix data and decide that Thera would quite possibly be a decent traveling companion. Her desire for combat will doubtless be interesting at some point.

However, it seems I need to develop what mortals call a 'gender identity' so I can manage. After ten thousand years, more counting the time spent manipulating the warp to move me when and where I needed to be to deal with something, of being able to shift genders at will using abilities from the polymorphine added during my original alterations removed any such thing from me long ago. Elizabeth and Thera are reading the history of the Imperium out loud while I am compiling all data I have acquired on gender identity and determining how best to develop it along lines useful within this situation. I categorize levels of masculinity, determine desired traits to properly fit in, and prepare to observe these traits.

Supreme confidence in myself is apparently required, and I already know for a fact that there is almost nothing I cannot do should I desire to do it. Confidence is confirmed as available to me, along with endurance, strength, durability, the ability to consider the data input from my companions while still making the decisions myself and taking charge, the ability to lead soldiers and maintain calm, and finally the ability to swiftly assess and adapt to a situation. All qualities necessary in a Space Marine leader, and I am rather pleased that I will require a minimum of work to fit in. Dedication to my goals is assessed alongside dedication to my faith, and I served as a Gray Knight Chaplain, a warrior who is so dedicated to his faith that he may minister to the faith of warriors who seek out the darkest, most corrupt corners of existence in order to bring light and purity to them. My dedication is without question, my faith is unshakable. I am informed that Elizabeth is querying the computer containing data on Imperial history about some of the religious rites of the Imperium, and I launch into a litany.

"Where there is darkness, I shall bring light. Where there is shame, I shall point atonement. Where there is heresy, I shall carry faith. Where there is hatred, I shall show its course. My word in the soul shall be as my bolter in the field For the Legion, for the Primarch, for the Emperor. DEUS IMPERATOR VULT!" I roar the last words, faith resounding in every syllable of the litany. A faith that has withstood all temptation and outlasted ages. Several of the people here in this village, which supports several shrines, drop to their knees. I notice them to be of the pokegirl breeds Warrior Nun, Seraph, Shrine Maiden, and Shrine Priestess, and without a pause, I begin a sermon, my armor shifting to that of a Gray Knights Chaplain, Crozius Arcanum appearing in one hand, censers being formed upon the power pack for my armor. I focus on the destruction of the daemon and the heretic, roaring out litanies of dedication, and am gratified to receive a very positive response. When I begin chanting the battle hymn of the Ecclesiarchy for the second time, voices rise into song, joining mine as the Seraphs and Warrior Nuns begin the hymn.

**_"A spiritu dominatus, domine, libra nos! From the lightning and the tempest, our Emperor, deliver us!" _**They roar the first line alongside me, almost fifty voices joined in a mighty chorus, faith filling the words and uplifting spirits. **_"From plague, temptation, and war, our Emperor, deliver us! From the scourge of the Kraken, our Emperor, deliver us! _**_**From the blasphemy of the Fallen, o**__**ur Emperor, deliver us! **__**From the begetting of daemons, o**__**ur Emperor, deliver us! **__**From the curse of the mutant, o**__**ur Emperor, deliver us! From the lies of the xenos, our Emperor, deliver us!**_**_" _**The chant continues, every line roared forth by me and accompanied by the chorus of Warrior Nuns and Seraphs, with a few of the Shrine Maidens joining in. My crozius arcanum is glowing, a holy light beginning to gather around it. I feel the warp stir and a tendril of power from another enter it. The Emperor had his attention drawn by the litany, and I feel his mind touch mine as he finds me.

**"So, this is where you were taken to, Harald," **he says in my mind, his voice resounding as I begin the next part of the hymn.

**_"With bolter and with blade, our Emperor, deliver us! With wrath and with ruin, our Emperor, preserve us!" _**The chant continues, the power from the Emperor's presence invoked by a faithful priest, who is connected to him at the moment he is invoking Him on Terra, gathering, a golden glow suffusing the area. I feel the Emperor's power brush the minds of the pokegirls who were joining in the service, and feel their trepidation as they feel His touch, judging them to determine whether they are human or mutant. I feel approval a moment later, and tears begin to flow down the faces of the pokegirls as He embraces them as children of Terra.

**"Already inspiring the Imperial Cult? You have been busy, Harald. Continue with this. I followed your path here, and have found I cannot bring you back. Only you can find your way home, so I will watch over the cults you leave in your wake. Now, ask of me one favor, and I will grant it in thanks for your service over the millennia,"**He says.

**"There was a man I met recently, a Ciaphas Cain. He impressed me greatly with his courage. Remake him into an Astartes of the Space Wolves and mark him as a Living Saint, and I will be content. The Wolves are the only Astartes who have not changed over the millennia. They have maintained their primarch's vision and your vision of them for this entire time, unlike the others, who have changed. In small ways for some, in greater ways for others. So let him be an example of the purity of the Wolves of Fenris," **I say mentally, and I hear the Emperor laugh, and a wave of agreement fills my mind.

**_"With hatred and with rage, our Emperor, deliver us! With faith and with flame, O Deus Imperator, deliver us! _**_**A morte perpetua, d**__**omine, libra nos! **__**That thou wouldst bring them only death, **__**That thou shouldst spare none, **__**That thou shouldst pardon none, **__**We beseech thee, O Deus Imperator, destroy the foe and deliver us!**_**_" _**The last line is proclaimed, a howl of dedication to the Emperor, a fervent prayer for protection, for the weapons to shield themselves from the foes of humanity. They have felt the power of Him on Terra, and are dedicated to him now. Several of the Warrior Nuns rise and stride forward, along with one of the Seraphs. A Shrine Priestess also rises, and joins the group, coming the closest to me and beginning to speak.

"Teach us," the Shrine Priestess says. "Too often have I seen attacks on my home, and had to stand aside because my faith was sworn never to raise a hand in violence. Now, teach me the faith of your Imperium. Teach me the ways of the cult that saw humanity survive in a galaxy where everything was trying to destroy it. Teach me righteous hatred, and how to turn it upon my foes. Teach me the ways of the Aspect Warriors of the Eldar, the priests of the Bloody Handed God, who you fought alongside. Teach me how I may never stand helpless again," she says, and I look into her eyes. There is fire there, and willpower. A will that has endured helplessly because her honor demanded it. I raise my head to the skies, and a howl leaves my lips as I exult in this discovery. When it ends, I nod.

"I will teach you. You will be a most excellent Canoness if I found a Sororitas cult, or an Exarch should I found a shrine to Khaine. Regardless, this I swear. You will never be helpless again," I tell her, and she raises a cry of exultation to the skies. A cry of freedom at last, freedom to fight alongside her comrades.

**"I'll let you watch Cain's being raised to the rank of Saint," **the Emperor says, snatching my consciousness.

The next thing I know, I'm watching a battlefield where Cain is fighting alongside the rest of the 597th Valhallan, with a contingent of Sororitas and a company of Ultramarines assisting in holding the line. 4th Company, I notice, and I see Uriel Ventris leading his kin. I silently salute him in spirit, and watch the human forces desperately hold the line against their enemy. They are attacked on three fronts, by Orks, Word Bearers, and Tyranids. Cain is cutting down whoever comes at him, and I see two Ork Warbosses who were wearing Mega Armor, a Tyranid Hive Tyrant, and several Word Bearers lying dead at his feet, bearing the marks of his chainsword. Twenty Deathwatch kill teams are also present, an almost unprecedented concentration of the force of the Deathwatch. Two of the Word Bearers are wearing Terminator armor, one being the Coryphaus of this host, and the other being an Obliterator. I notice a third slain Word Bearers Terminator, and note that he was a daemonhost, and silently salute Cain for his abilities.

Several Chaos champions in power armor also lie dead at his feet, and another is about to engage him when a bolt of lightning strikes Cain. A howl of triumph rises from the ranks of Chaos, as a scream of despair from the Imperial forces matches it before Cain's body is consumed in golden flames. The flames form into an aquila, and a shaft of golden light strikes through the dark clouds that have covered the skies. The light flashes, and when it vanishes, the Word Bearers host has been incinerated by the Emperor's power, unleashed to facilitate the birth of one of His Saints. Where the mortal Ciaphas Cain once stood, now an Astartes version of him stands. Clad in the armor of the Space Wolves, with a massive force sword in his right hand, Cain has a plasma pistol in his left hand. At his waist hangs a hand flamer, a melta pistol, a bolt pistol, and finally his laspistol, suitably upgraded and resized. A power sword and a power axe are hanging across his back, while an Iron Halo rises behind his helm. Six massive golden wings stretch behind him, and emblazoned upon his forehead is the aquila. On each cheek is emblazoned an emblem, one the sigil of the Sororitas, the other the symbol of the Gray Knights. I detect that he has been made immune to the powers of the warp, while still being a psyker, and laugh.

_"All hail Ciaphas Cain, Living Saint of the Imperium," _I whisper into the minds of the Guardsmen, Sororitas, and Astartes. I now notice Skitarii and Inquisition stormtroopers among the warriors on the field as I whisper into their minds. Blades and guns are raised in salute as Cain lifts his sword to block the blow he was expecting before his change, and it appears as if Cain is brandishing his blade, and as a mighty roar of joy rises among the human forces, lightning crashes down, ripping the Tyranid and Ork forces apart, unwittingly summoned by Cain. Lightning that strikes among the humans heals all wounds and repairs the damage to machines. Moments later, when the lightning fades, only those who were fully dead remain unhealed of every wound they have taken in the Emperor's service. Any destroyed machines are repaired with their merely damaged brethren, and brought to a state of repair that actually improved them to the higher technological standards of the Great Crusade. Not a bad ability at all.

**_"As you know, I endow each Saint with a set of powers. Some are personal, some are to aid the armies they lead. The stronger the Saint is, the greater their powers. Cain is strong enough to have seven different powers, besides his immunity to the warp while still being a psyker," _**the Emperor informs me.

**_"Interesting," _**I respond.

**_"I have named each power. He just used Storm of Purity, which destroys all foes of humanity while healing all allied to its cause, including the machines of the Mechanicus. The next is Flames of Retribution, which takes the form of cleansing fire that surrounds Cain himself, burning any who have harmed the Imperium while healing those who have aided it. I like granting abilities with multiple uses like that if I can, but few Saints are able to support them. It seems Astartes are strong enough to have several, though. I next gave him Aura of Charisma. It allows him to convince others to follow him, whether human or not. It also turns his silver tongue into something very useful. He will be able to find the words necessary to talk a Word Bearers Dark Apostle into becoming an Imperial Chaplain, if he feels like it. He'll be able to unite a Crusade by force of oratory alone, and lead it thanks to my next gift. The Endless Library, which allows him to access whatever knowledge he needs at that moment. If he needs knowledge of strategy, it is his, without him even having to consciously access the Library. Fifth is Supreme Fortune. He will be lucky in all his endeavors, find whatever or whoever he needs to aid him in a task, and the luck will affect any forces he personally leads, such as an Honor Guard or a regiment of the Imperial Guard," _**the Emperor declares proudly.

**_"Very useful. Having seen how the powers have formed within his soul, I can probably replicate them for my use, with your permission of course," _**I interject.

**_"Granted. The last two abilities are Regeneration, which will heal him from all wounds and keep him from aging. His soul forms his body now, rather than his body housing his soul. If his body is destroyed, another in the same pattern will be created immediately by him. His final ability is Company of Heroes. So long as they died in the defense of the Imperium, he may cause the spirits of the fallen to temporarily form new bodies in the pattern of their old bodies, with his gift of Regeneration, and wreathed in the Flames of Retribution. He may even raise fallen Machine Spirits. Should he focus on a single person, he may resurrect them fully, but they will not have these gifts, and it will be draining for him to do so," _**the Emperor finishes, and I start laughing. Cain is about to get thrust to the front lines he always tries to avoid, yet gets dragged onto so often. **_"He just found out who made the request for his ascension," _**the Emperor warns.

**_"Frostkin you bastard!" _**Cain howls into the warp, despair filling him. I laugh long and loud as my consciousness returns to my body, filling the warp with the sound of my amusement. Cain will secure the Imperium where I cannot, and now I can focus on returning home knowing there will be a home to return to. I open my eyes, and find but a second has passed while the Emperor took my mind from my body.

"We begin tomorrow. Today you rest, tomorrow you train hard," I tell the small assembly before me. "I will be a demanding tutor, though luckily I will have other duties, such as establishing a forge to craft armor and weapons for you from ceramite and adamantium," I tell them. I will need to determine where I may acquire these materials here, and given the technology level, it will take several iterations of tools and forges to make the necessary gear. I need to make the tools to make the tools to make the tools to make the tools to make the tools to make the tools I need to create forges capable of crafting ceramite and adamantium. Six iterations of forges before I may make them, a labor that will require almost two weeks of my time.

"We can take whatever you throw at us," one of the Warrior Nuns almost arrogantly states. I grin in response, and it is a predator's smile. She backs away, suddenly uncertain.

"Can you now?" I ask, determined to beat that arrogance right out of her. "Can you indeed?"

**_The next day_**

"Damn you Alexandra," one of the other Warrior Nuns groans. Alexandra is the name of the pokegirl who declared they could handle all that was thrown at them, and they all paid for that comment. I woke them two hours before dawn to start them on a nice run. Barefoot, of course, to make sure they appreciated the terrain. I also added resistance bands so they had to fight against fifty pounds of resistance stopping their every step. Weights around their ankles, wrists, upper arms, and thighs, as well as weighted vests, added to their problems. I put on specialized collars made so that if they ever went below a speed of forty eight kilometers per hour, they would be shocked until they attained that speed again. Even with their enhanced speed, maintaining that, which is equivalent to thirty miles per hour for them, over an ninety mile run on the roughest, nastiest terrain I could find last night, was unpleasant and exhausting for them, even with enhanced speed and strength.

When they returned, they were greeted by a series of stretches and exercises that brought every muscle online, including thousands of pushups and sit-ups. After those were done, I allowed them thirty minutes to eat their breakfast of porridge and bread, accompanied by water. Once that was done and the muscle pains were just beginning to set in, I left the building where I was swiftly crafting the tools I need for a forge to set them onto the next set of exercises. Naturally, they hadn't removed their weights the entire time. This set was combat exercises, and they were moving through forms for the next four hours, pushing their muscles harder than they had ever been pushed before. Afterwards, they were put through another set of stretches and other accompanying exercises that let their muscles relax. Most now have enough energy to collapse on the ground, since they've finished their exercises. I spared not a single Seraph, Warrior Nun, Shrine Maiden, or Shrine Priestess from the training, and all are regretting being born right now. Dinner will be soon, and it is fairly large, with plenty of food to restore their energy. Tomorrow will be worse, I vow to myself.

"Agreed," Alexandra moans out. "I should not have made that comment," she says. I accompanied them in the exercises, all except the forms, and outperformed them with ease in all of them, proving able to complete everything a good hour before they were, even without wearing power armor, and carrying weights ten times what they carried.

"At least we're getting stronger," a Shrine Maiden comments. I silently approve of her determination, as she tries to struggle to her feet. I stride over and kneel beside her.

"Stay down. Rest," I command, and set a purity seal I made earlier on her. She looks at it, then grasps it tightly, clutching onto the strip of parchment for all she's worth. She lies down and immediately starts sleeping. I nod as I rise and silently survey my trainees. All of them will rest, then I'll let them eat. "That applies to all of you. Stay down and rest. Good work today. You completed a course that the average Imperial Guardsman, a unmodified human, would consider a normal days workout. I will be expecting more from you later, but good work for now," I say, and they universally blanch. A Cadian Guardsman actually would consider this course normal, so I told no lie. There are mutterings of amazement about how tough Guardsmen must be, and one Seraph gathers the courage to question me.

"What would you consider that workout, as an Astartes?" She asks.

"A warmup," I respond. Many of them pale even further, as they were told I will be expecting them to reach Astartes standards before I am done with them. I nod, and return to the forge. There is a lot of work to do.

_**Here's the next chapter. I felt the Cult Imperial should be established, information was more effectively spread, and a few things were set out better then they were before. I couldn't resist the idea of Saint Cain, so added that in. Please read and review, thank you.**_


	3. Chapter 3

**_A New Realm_**

**_A Warhammer 40k and pokegirls crossover_**

**_Disclaimer: Refer to chapter 1 for disclaimer._**

**_Chapter 3_**

**_Six days after Harald's arrival_**

**_Thought for the Day: Purity is not the best defense you have against Chaos. It is the only defense._**

**_Harald POV_**

"Sir, we have finished the training regimen you set," one of the Seraphs reports. She is clad in light armor, and a blade hangs at her side. I nod, focusing on crafting the most recent set of tools I need. It will take six more days to complete a forge capable of crafting and working ceramite and adamantium, and I plan to remain on that schedule. "Also, there are several Romanticides who travelled here recently to look at the forges around here, and they are interested in possibly acquiring work at this forge, if you would be willing to have other smiths working alongside you," she informs me. I turn and look at her with this pronouncement, and the targeters attached to my helm draw up all information needed about her. {Mira, Seraph, Sororitas trainee} is the screen that comes up, and then I query about the Romanticide breed. They show up as capable when dealing with hammer and anvil, so I nod.

"I will accept them. Until they prove themselves, they are trainees. Ceramite and adamantium are harder to work than steel, and the forge is less forgiving. I am less forgiving of error than others are. Let them prove themselves at the forge, and observe the rites of the Mechanicus, and I will accept them as fellow smiths. I will decide later however on how they may assist," I say in reply as I return to my work. This area is excellent ground. There is one entrance to this town, which lies in a mountain valley, and one exit. However, the road here connects with roads from many other places in the mountains, and taking the road directly here is far safer. The other routes through this mountain range are unsafe, with the roads narrow and unstable, bridges over chasms being weak due to the stone of the mountain refusing to accept the weight of a heavier bridge. The mountains here are also the home of many hazards which make trade through this town the only reliable route. Many smaller villages and towns exist on the way here, which provide supplies for the mountain journey. An excellent, easily defensible area with plenty of trade passing through. There are mines all around here, and warrior breed pokegirls gravitate here. This place also supports a large base of the Church of this world, and so is a good place to begin forming a Sororitas convent. Once I finish the forge, fortification and military supply are my first priorities.

"Very well. I'll inform them immediately. Also, a Tamer is in the caravan, and he caught an Azhi Dahaka as he passed through the mountains. He is willing to sell it, and the Widow bounty was awarded to you…" Mira says. I call up the information and nod immediately. Such a worker will be immensely valuable. I have already contracted the services of Moriae and a Tradesman who keeps an Annt colony on hand, but help shaping the stone is welcome, and this breed apparently has considerable natural skill.

"Approved. Make the purchase. You have acted as liaison for me before, so I give you that role. You have naturally fallen into leading the warriors I am training to be Sororitas, Canoness," I inform her. "Your job is to lead, to inspire, to have the strongest faith. When I require aid with liaising with others, I would request that you fill this role, or assign me another I may trust with such business."

"I am honored by this show of trust, sir," Mira replies. "I will not fail you. For the liaison, I recommend Celeste. She is a Shrine Priestess, good with people. Has a sound head for what is needed to fulfill current goals. She won't let you down."

"Good. I am pleased that I have a capable deputy. I will inform the others of your new rank at muster tomorrow. Send these trainees to me, I will begin working with them," I say as I raise my hammer and begin a thin flow of flame from a mechadendrite mounted with a flamer that I generated. The metal stays warm, and I begin to shape the next set of molds I need. Half an hour later, my new trainees arrive, and they knock on the door to my forge. I set it up two days ago, a prefabricated forge design the Mechanicus sometimes uses in the field when repairs are necessary that require specialized parts manufacture. Sadly, the creators assumed the tools of the forge would be available already, and so didn't brother to include them, and I require new tools to work with, as I never got around to storing such a set of tools in the memory of my armor. Before, when I achieved rank in the Mechanicus, it was through combat. I joined the Biologis and enhanced my body, both biologically and mechanically, to be even more deadly than it was before. Once I did so and achieved sufficient rank, I volunteered for Explorator Fleets, joined the group in command of the Fleet, and assassinated them. I could fill most specialities, including navigation, so I always got the fleet through and retrieved STCs. After enough of this, I was rewarded with high rank in the Mechanicus, becoming second only to the Fabricator General. When I worked alongside Salamanders or Iron Hands as one of them, I never stored the tools in my armor, but rather used what I was given so as not to raise suspicions. Thus, I need to make my tools. I send a signal to the mechanics in the door, and it hisses open.

"Reporting as requested, smith," one of the four armed females who enters says. I do not turn, continuing my work. "Aren't you going to look at us?" She asks, seeming insulted. I delve into her thoughts, and find that she wants an excuse to take offense and demand the mastery of this forge as repayment for the offense.

**"There is no need," **I say through the forge's vox system. **"There are cameras in here that record all points of this forge, and I am mentally connected to them. I knew your faces the moment you came within a hundred meters. I may communicate through the vox system in this facility. To use flesh senses when I am working and others will do the job would be foolish," **I declare, and the others of the females agree.

"Indeed. Disrupting a smith's work is not something you do, or had you forgotten that, Ferra?" One Romanticide demands of the original speaker. This one is clad in heavy armor, with a massive war hammer across her back. At her sides hang an assortment of knives, and she wears twin bandoleers across her chest with a waraxe and broadsword attached to them where they cross her back. More knives hang on the bandoleers across her front, and in one hand is clutched a box that I scan, finding it contains the tools to set up a mobile forge anywhere and do most work a village smith could do. A professional who carries her tools everywhere. I call up town records, and find her to be unregistered and that she bears the name Tala. I correct the registry, putting her under my ownership. She is the only one of the group arrayed as a warrior, and letting a professional like that go to waste is not something I will allow.

**"Tala," **the vox crackles again.

"Yes?" She asks, drawing her hammer slightly from its carrying sling. "If you object to my presence, I will gladly challenge you to gain the right to work here. I am interested in this Mechanicus I read of, and this is its only outpost in this world," she declares, a strong spirit clear in her voice.

**"HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" **I roar in laughter at this challenge. She appears insulted, then I correct her assumption. **"Challenge me? You don't need to do that. You I gladly accept into this forge. I simply wished to inform you that I registered you under my ownership. I feel that a warrior like you shouldn't be wasted, and I will gladly fight alongside you." **I say, and her now drawn war hammer slips from her fingers, falling to the floor with a clatter of metal on metal. I finish the last mold of this set and turn to her, removing my helm and laying aside my hammer.

"Really? You don't think that I'm unfit for working with you?" She asks in a shocked tone. "My first Tamer said that my refusal to set aside work for a journey or just settle down and avoid fighting made me useless," she continues, and my snarl rips from my throat, as I suddenly feel the desire to give into the Red Thirst. "Others usually say that I think too much for a pokegirl, and that I should stop being so independent, that I rise above my place."

"In this forge, your place is what I say it is. You're in charge of keeping this lot of fellow trainees in line. I expect immediate obedience from you. In just a few days, I will have the tools needed to craft ceramite and adamantium. I will be able to craft similar tools for you, and you will work," I say.

"We are honored to be accepted into this forge. We enter as students, and will leave when you have completed our training and not before," Tala declares. "I accept the honor of leading my fellow students. In all things of the forge, we will obey immediately. What duties do you have for us? Bellows work, keeping the fire going? Or is it ore you need refined? Any duty you need done, we will attend to, and in return, you teach us your craft," Tala bargains.

"Agreed. There is a lot of ore I need refined, and the facilities of this building do not involve an assembled forge suitable for what I need. I am thus making the forge required, and I need others to assemble the parts of the next generation of the forge. Others may deal with the tools. I am making the molds for them now, if the molten ore in the containers to the left of me could be poured into that, it would help," I say, pointing out parts of the forge. My stand is at the center, bellows stationed to be accessible to me while also feeding the forge fire. The Mechanicus emblem is engraved on the back wall of the forge, the icon the size of a Dreadnought. The ceiling towers above, twenty meters above the floor. The walls, except for the Mechanicus emblem, are unadorned, as is the floor, the building being merely blank metal. To my right is a pile of ore rich stone and several small forges, waiting to refine ore to metal. To my left are several meter tall vats hanging from a pole roughly twenty meters long, a fifth of the length of any wall of this facility. Each vat is filled with molten metal, which is kept from cooling by flamers installed in two walls set up alongside the pole. The flamers cease fire and the walls slide away from the pole at a mental command from me, leaving enough room for the metal to be collected. Large vats of water and a metal table with the molds lying on it are indicated to the left of the vats, and another table with hammers and chisels to open the molds is indicated, positioned to the left of me. Small shrines to the Omnissiah are in the two corners of the forge furthest from the entry, and papers with litanies of praise to the Omnissiah, on a table behind me, are indicated, along with the protective gear they will need. I was hoping to recruit some of their breed anyways, and made that a couple of days ago. A pile of parts necessary to assemble the next iteration of my forge, with molds by it for the remaining parts that must be made, are by the table containing the litanies. "Once the metal is in the molds, let it cool in the water for fifteen minutes. My thanks for your assistance," I say, and turn to my work again.

"Understood. Ferra, take Byrn and Skuld, get to work on the ore. I'll deal with the forge, with May and Theresa assisting me. The rest of you, split evenly. Four to the tools, four to the ore, as you prefer," Tala says, and they nod. All fourteen immediately move to their tasks, beginning their vital work. Within an hour, I am convinced that they are suitable assistants, and their speed of work and assistance will allow me to finish the forge four days ahead of schedule. I was expecting to bring it operational sixteen days after it was ready to craft ceramite and adamantium, but their assistance will allow me to bring it online eight days from now. Expansion of the forge will begin shortly after it is operational, so it might craft all needed items.

**_Eight days later, after much work in the forge and training the Sororitas aspirants_**

"Aspirants," I say, addressing the Warrior Nuns, Shrine Maidens, Shrine Priestesses, and Seraphs. Ranks have become clear quickly, and squads were easily arranged. Celeste has proved an able liaison and a good fighter, having her own squad. She took well to flame, and her squad was assigned heavy weapons with them slated to receive two plasma cannons, two multi-meltas, two missile launchers, two heavy bolters, and two heavy flamers. However, she has put in requests for a lascannon for her squad, replacing one of the heavy bolters. I will be granting her a power sword soon, once it is crafted, shortly after Mira has received her weapons, consisting of several different types of pistol, twin power swords, and a power lance. She has also requested an Iron Halo, and she will receive it. Her power armor will incorporate an internal anti-grav system so she may fly with it, though her wings will strengthen until it isn't needed, given time. But now for the speech. "You have all proven yourselves to me to be warriors. Your courage cannot be doubted. Your honor is unquestionable. Your bodies are as tough as they could be made in this short time, tougher than I honestly expected. You will all be a credit to the Adepta Sororitas. Soon, you will be clad in power armor, wielding bolter and blade. You will fight alongside your sisters for real, not just in exercises. I am crafting what you need in my forge, and before I leave this place, to see this version of Holy Terra, you will all be arrayed as Sororitas. Your training will be kept up. There is yet time. But this is the last time I address you as trainees. My congratulations on your success, and my compliments on your determination, warriors of the Adeptus Sororitas. Your cult will, in time, expand. It will not exclusively worship the Emperor. That is immaterial. The worship of the Emperor is upheld by the Sororitas because that is humanity's only religion in my galaxy. Here, there are other choices. Your duty is to protect humanity, first and foremost. Hold the line against the dark. That is your duty, and if you uphold this, I will count your training as time well spent for me," I say. The trainees stand stunned. Then Mira steps forward, followed by her Sisters Superior.

"Understood. We will uphold the honor of our name, may we be damned to the warp if we are not. We are the Chamber Militant of the Church, it's army to punish the heretic, the daemon, and all others who threaten humanity," Mira declares, and her blade is lifted in salute. A mighty roar of assent is raised among the Sororitas as blades are drawn by the rest of them in salute to me. Solemnly, I raise my own blade in salute to them. We are on their training field, a grassy field just east of the town, and I am on a hastily constructed platform, my full, Terminator armored bulk standing easily above them. My blade is bigger than any of them, and as it catches the light of the risen sun and reflects it onto other blades, it seems a shower of golden light falls around us.

**_"Praise be unto thee for thy strength, O Sororitas, holy maidens, scourge of evil," _**the Emperor thunders into their minds, with me catching it by accident. Immediately, all present, myself included, fall to their knees in worship, hand carved aquila charms pulled out of shirts and raised in their hands. Each trainee made their own charm, not as a requirement, but because they felt like it. One thought she should have the symbol of her faith always present, and the practice spread to the rest in mere hours. **_"Rise, Harald Frostkin. Do not kneel to me. I should be on bent knee before you, rather. I attempted to lead humanity forward by my power, but you, for ten millennia, have endured, faithful to my dream of humanity united and ascendant. You have done my will, and you have led by example. You have instilled faith among the faithless, brought light to the darkness, proved yourself a hero more times than I can remember. You are not below me, but rather above me. Where I failed, you, for ten thousand years, staked everything to achieve my dream and preserve my realm. Where others fell in battle, or grew tired and laid down their burdens, you continued. Please, rise. I cannot bear to see a hero on his knees," _**the Emperor…begs? I am shocked for a moment, then slowly force myself to rise from my knees, my armor resisting my movement. My age touches me, just for a moment, as I rise, and I feel my bones creak, old wounds paining me as I struggle to my feet. My age slams into me then, and I collapse to my knees, a groan leaving my lips as my old wounds hit me, the pains that should be present in my bones if I wasn't an Astartes and unaging hitting me.

A shout of dismay rises from the Sororitas as they see me fall, my armor vanishing as I dismiss it. My old bones creak as I struggle and fail to rise, my massive, heavily muscled bulk unable to bring me from the ground. Several rush forwards, kneeling beside me, trying to help me rise, tears in their eyes as they see me felled so. I hear a sob from in front of me, and a small girl with green skin and hair appears in front of me. She drops to her knees beside me, sobbing. "Thi-this wasn't supposed to hurt you! I could feel your age, and you were so big, and armored, and tough…" she trails off, tears taking over. "I heard that voice, and saw what you had done. All that fighting, all those wounds you took for Him." The last word is laced with pure loathing. "I just wanted you to be able to rest from the fighting, and I tried to make it so you had to do so, but it wasn't supposed to do this!" Her voice rises into a wail of panic on the last word. My armor's systems, accessible even when I am not wearing it, identify her as the legendary Sexebi. I see that she is innocent, and marshal my strength, raising one massive hand to her face, wiping away her tears. My breath rasps in my throat as I try to speak, my body getting his with ten thousand years of age, and being treated like a human body instead of an Astartes body. "Please be okay," she pleads, her hands glowing as she exerts her powers upon me. The Sororitas have drawn blades, and sadness is replaced by rage. Mira is so angry that she is trembling, her blades shaking, the metal groaning under her strength as she grasps the hilts. With a scream of purest hate, she lunges.

"DEATH TO THE WITCH!" She roars, her blades striking for her foe's neck, absolute loathing imprinted on her features. Tears run freely down her face, her words fading into a scream of loss and hatred as she sees the years hit me, my strength being ripped from me.

"No," is all I can say, rasped through my lips, but it is a command, however faint my voice. Mira drops her blades in an instant, and drops to her knees beside me.

"Than tell me what to do," Mira pleads. "What do I do, if you won't let me avenge you?" She cries out.

**_"No. _****_NO! I will not allow this!"_** The Emperor roars. **_"Not after ten thousand years of service! Harald Frostkin, hear my decree, and if you have ever followed my orders, obey and carry it out! You are forbidden to die this day! YOU ARE FORBIDDEN TO DIE AT ALL! Draw on the warp, ascend, become a God. These are my orders, and you WILL obey!"_**

**_"No," _**my mental voice is weak, but clear to all. **_"Godhood is for the Emperor alone. I will not presume to take such power into my own hands. I am sorry, but I must refuse this order, my lord," _**I say, resolve in my words. I begin a mental chant from my time as a Gray Knight, one of the Emperor's own Legion. He had meant to make his own Legion before the Heresy, to create his daemon hunters and nullify the threat of the warp, but he was stopped by the Heresy. **_"Praise the Emperor for his sacrifice, as He endures, so shall I. Founded in great mystery were we, Chapter Six Hundred and Sixty Six. To hunt the daemon were we made, the Gray Knights, the Chamber Militant of the Ordo Malleus, the order of the Hammer! The hunters in the night! Where no others dare stand, we shall fight! We are His Hammer! We are His HATE! We are the END! Death. DEATH. Death! DEATH! NO MERCY! NO REGRET! NO FEAR!" _**I roar, screaming defiance into the face of death for all within a hundred light years to hear, my voice clear and strong, my righteous hatred, which has burned for so long, lending me strength in what I know to be my final moments. With my strength leaving fast, I begin the battle prayer. **_"I am the Hammer. I am the Hate. I am the Mail about His Fist. I am the Emperor's iron clad right hand. I am the woes of Daemonkind! I am the point of His Spear! I am the edge of His Sword! Though I am lost, I am the Shield on His arm, I am the flight of His Arrows! I am the Hammer! I am the Hate! I am the Sword, I am the Spear, I am the _****_Shield! _****_I am the call of His Hounds, I am His Vengeance come upon His foes! I am His Wrath made Manifest, His Rage given form! I am a Space Wolf! I am a soldier of the battle at the end of time!" _**I roar in the minds of all who can hear me, my dedication clear. I muster my strength one last time, and as a feral howl leaves my lips, reverberating through the mountains, I roar one last declaration. **_"FOR RUSS AND THE ALLFATHER!"_**

**_An unknown amount of time later_**

I wake, and I am in full armor, standing on an icy land, mist shrouding the path in front of me. Before me stands a massive hall, and within I hear the sounds of revelry. Two Astartes warriors in the gray armor of Space Wolves stand at the entrance, long spears in their hands. I recognize both as old friends, comrades in Russ' Wolf Guard, Ragnvald and Sigurd. I raise a shout of joyous greeting as I approach them, a shout that shakes the hills around me. They look for me, then see me just as I lumber in front of them.

"By the Allfather, Harald, is that you?" Ragnvald asks in shock. "You've become a giant!" I shrink to a size equal to theirs and shift my armor to power armor. "We expected you a long time back, so why have you taken so long to arrive?" He queries. I hear the Bell of Lost Souls tolling in the distance, and raise an eyebrow. "That's the tenth toll since the Allfather declared it would sound a thousand times for you. How did you earn that honor?" He asks me. "I'm sure it's a fine saga. Sit here, bide a while at the door. I'll call for ale and meat, and the warriors will gather to hear your tale. I can't enter the Hall until Russ does, so please, tell it here," he asks, and I nod. He opens the door and calls inside, and shortly after warriors are gathering. I begin my saga, enjoying ale and meat, telling all ten thousand years of my tale to my old friends. When I get to the end and tell them of my death, Ragnvald curses, tears in his eyes. "Dying because of magic, in a world not even in your home galaxy. That's no way to go," he curses virulently. I nod in agreement, then a voice thunders across the wastes.

"He is not yours, Ragnvald! He does not yet belong here!" Rogal Dorn calls. He leads a party of Imperial Fists, Ferrus Manus and Sanguinius by his side, accompanied by guards of their own. "The Emperor has commanded that he should be sent back to the world of the living, life breathed into his form once more, and you will obey!" Dorn commands.

"He died after a long life of service, and I will not deny him a seat at table," Ragnvald responds, raising his spear, Sigurd joining him. Sigurd was always silent, but loyal to his comrades. Now, both snarl, fangs bared and spears crackling with power.

**_"No. Father requested I intervene, and in this matter, I agree. Harald Frostkin, you, of all my sons, have made me the proudest," _**Russ' voice thunders. **_"I am proud beyond description in your feats, and I will not let you end so ingloriously. You will end only when your blade is broken, your armor shattered beyond repair, and your flesh torn to shreds, an army laying dead on the battlefield before you. I loathe having to deny you rest, but you will, and must, end in glory. Go from the Halls. Live ten thousand, no, a hundred thousand more years, and return with more tales of glory," _**Russ demands. I nod, and raise my blade in salute. Ragnvald and Sigurd curse, as do many others, the warriors inside the Hall spilling out. Dorn and the other primarchs, as well as their guards, approach.

"Honor Guard, ready!" Ragnvald barks, every fallen Space Wolf in the Halls of Russ assembling around me, weapons at parade rest. Sigurd glares at Dorn, and speaks as he and Ragnvald fall in.

"You want to get him back to the lands of the living? We know the way, so fall in or let us escort him," he commands. Sanguinius nods, stopping Dorn from arguing, and falls into the ranks, raising his blade in salute to me as he does so. The Wolves begin chanting my saga as they ready to march, Dorn and the others joining Sanguinius, litanies of praise raised to the skies by the primarch of the Blood Angels, his warriors joining in, singing praises of my strength and glory.

"Honor Guard, march!" Ragnvald roars, and we begin to march across the icy lands, towards the land of the living. As we march, more warriors fall in. First Astartes, then Guardsmen, then Sororitas, then Skitarii and Titans until all who have died in service to the Emperor as one of his soldiers escort me back to the lands of the living. Once our force is complete, I see others in our way.

"Let us pass," Sigurd demands as we approach. I see warriors of Chaos there, every Space Marine who has died serving Chaos appearing, along with all of their number who have become Daemon Princes, accompanied by their primarchs.

"We demand the right to join Frostkin's escort," Horus Lupercal growls. Eldar warriors appear as well, currently dead Exarchs and Aspect Warriors, along with all other Eldar who have died fighting, silently making the same demand. I nod in assent, and Sigurd replies.

"Fall in, there's room for all in our ranks," he says, and they do so, litanies of praise first rising from the Word Bearers, then from others. The Word Bearers, in moments, are screaming out my praises to the skies, howling forth verses of my saga with holy fervor. The World Eaters aren't far behind, praising my strength and skill at arms. Even Orks join us before much longer, and the wastes are filled with verses of my saga and praises of my might. As we approach the lands of the living, I feel my vacated body having the curse placed on it by Sexebi removed by that same legendary. It becomes revitalized swiftly, ready for me to return to, and I call to Ragnvald, who leads the procession.

"My body is being restored to a condition that will let me return to it!" I call. He nods, and our course changes slightly. Reincarnation is not necessary or possible if I can return to my body, so we march to the gate back to my shell. Soon, we arrive, and through the gate, I feel my senses restored.

_"Please come back," _Sexebi is pleading. _"I made you better, why won't you wake up? You're too strong to be dead, right? Nothing can kill you, right? No, there's nothing that's strong enough to kill you, so please, come back. I promise I won't do it again," _she begs, and I approach the gate. Before I enter, I turn and raise my blade in salute to my escorts. In response, the sound of thunder booms as guns fire into the air, every warrior unleashing a volley. More volleys follow, until twenty one volleys of fire have been unleashed, then blades and guns are raised in a salute as the assembled warriors roar my name. I enter my body, and feel it whole and strong. I draw breath, and open my eyes. Sexebi is standing at my side on a low bier of earth, crying. I lift my hand and wipe away her tears, then roll onto my knees and rise to my full, massive height, armor encasing me as I call to it once more.

"Peace, little one. Cry not this day, for the Emperor has decreed that I may not yet die," I say, voice soft. I reduce my height and kneel, ending up a bit taller than her on bended knee. She looks up and rushes me, my massive arms shrouding her a moment later. Well did I learn compassion when I walked amongst humans during my ten thousand years, and I let her cry as I dismiss my armor once more, her tears of joy running freely. A moment later, I am mobbed by the Sororitas, their tears running as every one of them fights to get close to me, to reassure herself that I live once more.

"I'm not leaving your side from now on," the little pokegirl in my arms declares. "I'm going to stay right by you and make sure no one can do that to you again," she says. "I didn't want to hurt you, I just wanted you to not have to fight, so I'm going to fight so you don't have to. I'll turn time itself against anyone who tries to hurt you," she says, her voice resolved.

"Very well then, it is agreed," I say, amused at her resolve. I rise, her clutched in my arms, to a height of three meters, my height still reduced for convenience. My death and return may be good for the Sororitas. They have seen His power at work now.

"You were gone a full hour sir," Mira says. I stretch my arms and rotate them, then the grass in front of me starts swaying. "You…you…" Mira stammers.

"Yes?"

"Sir, you have wings now," she explains, and then I feel them. Two massive wings stretch out behind me, flapping, testing themselves as my other muscles are tested. They are strong indeed, and each one is over twelve meters in length, ready to lift me into the sky. I decide that flying isn't the best idea right now, and settle my wings.

"I see," I declare, my voice calm and confident. I am alive again, the past is the past, and I'll forget about it. Except for one thing, so I set Sexebi down and kneel by her. "What did you do to make me feel the full weight of my years?" I ask. I must know this, for my safety and that of any I am fighting alongside if anyone tries this again. I usually anchor battle lines, keeping them steady and strong. If I go down, any line I'm in has a good chance of collapsing, and that would be very bad.

"You won't be mad?" She asks shyly, her cuteness extreme as she exerts her aura. I nod, confirming this.

"He won't, but I very will might," Mira declares, and snarls of assent rise from several other of the newly named Sororitas.

"I won't hurt you little one," I say calmly. "Neither will they, though their anger might rise. Now, what drew you to my location, and what did you do to bring down the weight of my years upon me?"

"I felt someone really powerful reaching out to this location, and could feel that they were male, so I wanted to see what male was so strong. I arrived when he was praising you, and saw all the battles he made you fight, and felt that you were old. I saw that something had changed you to make you fight like Iron Mask made me fight, so I tried to remove that from you so you could rest. I thought you had the Longevity Blood Gift, and that's why you were so old. I didn't know what would happen, honestly I didn't," she says, beginning to break down again. I groan to myself. Centuries old she may be, but she has a child's innocence and is pacifistic.

"Calm down. I'm fine, no permanent harm, just that removing the change removed my Blood Gifts, as you termed them. I inherited them through genetics granted by my alteration, and thus, with the changes removed, they were removed," I explain.

"I get it," Sexebi says. Then she perks up and curiosity tinges her aura. "How old are you?" She asks, and several people gasp in shock at her question. A couple step forward, apparently viewing this as a breach of etiquette, but I wave them off. "You look so young, so you can't be that old. Even Longevity has its limits, after all," she says cheerfully.

"I am ten thousand and more years of age," I rumble, and my voice has changed. The weight of years and experience fill it as I rise, towering over everyone else at three meters of height. My stance changes, becoming that of the champion of Russ, the posture of a warrior who has endured ages, and spat in the face of gods when they dared declare themselves their foes. My eyes turn into pits of fire and mist as I call the warp, and the skies turn cloudy, a blizzard starting to brew. "I walked among the stars in the Age of the Great Crusade of the God-Emperor of Mankind, and with these hands, which his sciences and sorceries gave strength, I have slain gods and men alike. I was the champion of Leman Russ!" I roar, lightning crackling around me. "I have toppled cities, slain armies, destroyed worlds with only my own powers, no aid required from others. I am ancient beyond measure. I have entered the palaces of gods to whom galaxies raise their voices in cries of worship, and shattered their thrones, slain their vassals, and fought their nobles, victory being mine every time. Answer me this, before my might, who are_ you_?" I growl. All around me, Sororitas and the people of the town, all of whom gathered around where my body was laid, are dropping to their knees, bowing before me. The Romanticides who assist in my forge are on their knees as well, faces pressed to the ground, and others rapidly follow their example. Sexebi is looking at me in awe, then slowly she sinks to her knees, the storm whipping up as my powers call to the gale winds. I raise my head and howl.

"I…I am… I am Sexebi, legendary pokegirl of time," she begins, and I wave my hand, signaling for her to continue. "I have saved hundreds, if not thousands, from poison and death, freezing time to halt violence. I have intervened where necessary to keep the world or humanity from ending throughout history. It might not be much before your ancient might and glory, but I offer these poor accomplishments up to your scrutiny," Sexebi says, awed and humble before me as snow begins to fall.

"All lives saved make a difference. Count yourself my inferior because you choose to be my inferior, not because your accomplishments are less than mine. I may have turned back world slaying armies in the Emperor's name, saving trillions at a time, but you have done as much as you can. The Emperor asks two things. One, that you do all the good you can in your life, and accept nothing less than your very greatest efforts. The other, that you die standing to the end, defiant against humanity's foes. You have done well," I tell her.

"I…I understand," Sexebi says. "Everyone matters. Every life I save has value." I nod in response.

"Yes. Now, I have work to do in the forge. Would you care to accompany me, to see the gears of war beginning to turn?" I ask her. "If you want peace, there must be war. There will always be war. Only if everyone was controlled psychically every moment could peace be eternal. You have done violence, and seek redemption. So see the tools of violence crafted. Redemption lies in destroying others who would do evil, and you alone cannot do that. So come, see the tools others will wield, what warriors use to deal death," I say.

"Yes. Yes, I would like that very much," she says, and lifts into the air on her wings. "Let me see the tools of war, the tools I must take up to earn my redemption," she says. The young one is beginning to see. To destroy evil is the only way to atone for doing evil. Oppose it, destroy it, and leave only light behind. To live in peace after doing evil is impossible. You will always see its work and thirst to atone by stopping it. Redemption must be had first.

"We are judged in death for the evil we have destroyed in life," I begin. "The Emperor, or whichever god you follow, judges you based on your virtues. By destroying evil, we make the galaxy safer. It is not only for glory that we fight. It is not because that is the way to whichever heaven you hope to achieve. It is not because we hope to be remembered, statues raised in our honor. It is for the good of all. We fight because that is our duty. We have the ability to fight to defend the weak and the innocent, and so it is our obligation to raise arms and do violence. Without the Darkness, there can be no Light. Without Death, there can be no Life. Without War, there can be no Peace."

"We have purpose!" The Sororitas respond. I nod, and the speech is ended. Sexebi is looking at me, and her head is raised, hope in her eyes. Hope of peace, of redemption. Of finally feeling that her hands are clean again. Of not imagining herself going rogue again every night in her dreams.

"Follow," is all I say, beginning to head towards the forge. Enough of my working time has been wasted today. I signal to Mira, and she begins barking orders to the Sororitas to begin training. Sexebi follows me, as does Tala and the other Romanticides. When I arrive at the forge, work is about to begin when Tala addresses me.

"Harald, I will require taming within the next couple of days," she informs me, almost embarrassed. I nod.

"I considered that. I have done all necessary research, and am fully prepared to attend to your needs," I reply calmly, heading to the new forges. There are molds for parts that have been set up, with several sets of molds along long tables, vats ready at the side of the tables to receive ceramite and adamantium. The tables contain molds for all the parts required for power swords, chainswords, bolt pistols, and bolters. I will craft any other specialize tools myself. Between the last six tables are spread the molds for all the parts of powered armor. Eight tables for crafting weapons, two for each weapon, and six to produce the parts of power armor, and me working on my own, making specialized weapons. If I had servitors, I could set up a proper production line, but I don't, sadly enough. There is a knock at the door, and I allow Mira to enter as I notice her at the door. She is approaching a feral state, so I schedule times to deal with her needs along with Tala's.

"Harald, we caught a group of criminals. They admitted to following the Widow and robbing the towns it destroyed once it passed through. All are human, no pokegirls among them. They were caught yesterday and I planned to inform you after your earlier address to the Sororitas," Mira reports. I turn and look at her.

"Lead me to them. Their punishment will be to undergo servitor conversion. Doing so will allow me to quicken the pace of work and increase the volume of material produced," I reply swiftly. Mira nods, then leads me to the cells where the prisoners are kept.

**_Seven days later_**

"The servitors are complete now. I trust you readied the production lines as instructed?" I ask Tala. She nods, and I feel interest from her. A Delta bond, as they term it here, was established with both Mira and Tala during the sessions. Sexebi also formed a Delta bond with me after her taming session yesterday, and I will be receiving delivery of the Azhi Dahaka I purchased in a few hours. I seem to form Delta bonds easily, likely due to my abilities as a psyker. The prefabricated forge has been expanded over the last couple of days, nearly tripling its size. Production lines are set up inside, with each Romanticide overseeing one of the lines and with her own forge to work on specialized projects. One line turns out power armor, another power weapons, another turns out melta, las, and plasma weapons, yet another bolt weapons, from pistols to heavy bolters, and yet another turns out missile launchers. One more production line is busy making flame weapons, and the one concerning itself with power armor is also making jump packs, while the line making plasma weapons is also making chainswords and chainaxes. The other 9 are making and assembling various useful items, such as Land Speeders, Rhinos and that tanks variants, Leman Russ tanks in all the various versions, three lines are concerning themselves with Baneblade components and those of Baneblade variants, while another turns out jet bikes. The last two are turning out vehicle mounted weaponry for those tanks. I send each Romanticide to her station, but hold Tala back for a moment.

"Why am I not to report to my forge?" She asks curiously.

"You are ready for augmentation in the patterns of the Mechanicus. I would recommend, even if you don't want much of your flesh replaced, that you have upgrades so you can speak binary and have faster thought processes. Also, noospheric implants would be good for you, along with the necessary implants along the spine for a servo harness. Those are all fairly minor and yet allow most things you need to get done to be done. Maybe ocular and auditory implants to improve those as well?" I consider. "I can have them done and installed in less than four hours," I say.

"Yes," Tala says enthusiastically. "Finally, my own implants. I don't want more than these implants, but they will serve me well," she says happily.

"Very well. I will begin immediately then," I reply, and send her to her station. All but one of the implants is ready, and the last will be done in less than an hour. I begin work, glad that soon the forge will be filled with data traveling in the noosphere. The servitors are taking up their positions, work on the assembly lines is beginning, and soon the forges will unleash the tools of death into the world.

**_Like this chapter? I had to show that Harald has some vulnerabilities, which he does. As a warrior, he's a terror to face. But a well meaning act managed to lay him low. The Emperor shows some humility, and Sexebi discovers redemption through violence. All in all, this story is taking an interesting route, and my muse is keeping her plans secret. Please read and review, thank you._**


	4. Chapter 4

**_A New Realm_**

**_A Warhammer 40k and pokegirls crossover_**

**_Disclaimer: Refer to chapter 1 for disclaimer._**

**_Chapter 4_**

**_Thought for the Day: He who allows the heretic to live shares in the crime of their existence._**

**_Harald POV_**

"Harald, the first of the Leman Russ tanks is ready. As instructed, it has a hull mounted heavy flamer and plasma cannons on its sponsons," Tala reports. It is two weeks after she accepted the offer of implants, and she is taking to them very quickly. A servo harness with four mechadendrites is on her back, ready to be used. Two of the mechadendrites contain multi-tools, which allow her to do most forge work needed. Another has a plasma cutter, and the last contains a flamer, both of which augment her multi-tools when at work. She still wears her armor, but now, she's in power armor and a multi-melta hangs loosely in one of her hands, while her sword and axe have been replaced by a power sword and chainaxe. A thunder hammer rests on her back, waiting for use, and her knives have been upgraded to have monomolecular edges, though power knives and phase knives are among her weapons as well. Shuriken pistols, bolt pistols, hand flamers, inferno pistols, plasma pistols, hotshot laspistols, gauss pistols, Tesla pistols, sonic pistols, rail pistols, tachyon pistols, and several other types of pistol, as well as ammo for them, have joined her blades. I have a lot of weapons at my disposal, and Tala and the other Romanticides took very well to them, very quickly.

"Excellent," I say, and head towards the new door in the factory wall, beginning the chants of activation. As I approach the Leman Russ, I broadcast into the noosphere all data on the weapons of this tank, such as schematics, range, power, and more. All of the Romanticides received noospheric upgrades in the last few days, so they look up as the broadcast continues, golden strands of data appearing in the noosphere, describing the tank itself. Its patterns, its capabilities, everything about it. The Machine Spirit will hear and know its vessel. Moments later, the tank begins to awaken. Behind me, I hear gasps. Several of the Sororitas are in the forge, and this event is also being broadcast to the video screen I set up in the town. "Let thy pattern be Terra, for that is thy home!" I roar, finally stopping my chants in binary. The Machine Spirit will soon awaken. I felt it enter the vessel, and now it begins to stir. Over the last day, as the tank was being assembled, I have helped its newborn Machine Spirit begin to know itself. I have told it its duties, its place, and now it begins to stir, hunger for war and hatred of the enemies of man beginning to emanate from it. "Let thy code be Alpha-Zero-Zero-One, for thou art the first of thy pattern!" I continue, and the spirit is now rapidly awakening. The Video Girl that was invited to visit and look at this 'silly machine religion believing machines have souls,' gasps.

"It...it really lives. I feel its computers. And I feel its spirit. It's hungry. So hungry. It wants to fight, to kill everything that dares threaten mankind," she stammers. "I feel its hatred, its desire to kill. Is...is this a war spirit?" She asks in shock.

"Let thy name be declared as thou awaken! I name thee the death of the foes of humanity! I name thee the end of all who would threaten the servants of the Omnissiah! I name thee _Ragnar's Fury!" _I roar the last words, and the tank roars to life. The Leman Russ Exterminator comes to life with no guiding hand within, and its autocannon begin to seek targets. The pilot light on the heavy flamer blazes to life as the plasma cannon begin to warm up. Its searchlight blazes in the darkness of the forge, as its pintle mounted storm bolter lifts and finds a target. "Calm thy wrath, child of the Omnissiah. It is not yet time for war. Soon thou shalt be unleashed, but stay thy rage for this time," I command, reinforcing with a repetition of the command in binaric. I allow the League and Church officials here to check to ensure that no means besides the power of the Machine Spirit animated _Ragnar's Fury,_ and the Video Girl also provides confirmation in mere moments, very emphatically declaring that she is now convinced. When she links with others, their declarations of certainty are not far behind.

"It seems this Omnissiah truly works miracles. To bring a machine to life and give it a true soul..." The senior priest of the Church who is present trails off. "The faiths of the God-Emperor of Mankind and the Deus Mechanicus are hereby recognized as legitimate by the Church. Their shrines are to be treated as holy places, just like all other shrines are," he declares a moment later. With their recognition, the faiths of the Emperor and the Machine God are judged entirely valid by the people of this world, and the works of those faiths are their own, rather than being bothered with League oversight. "And, these pokegirls behind me, wearing the holy symbols of the Cult Imperial, who are they?" He asks. Mira and Celeste, along with three other Sisters Superior, and the full squads of all five of the Sororitas leaders, stand at the ready. Their power armor and weapons are finished and they learned to use them very quickly, and now are fully clad, weapons in their hands.

"Adepta Sororitas," I reply. His look is exasperated, and I continue. "The Chamber Militant of the Cult Imperial. Under the Decree Passive, the Emperor's Church can have no men under arms, so the Sororitas fill its military needs instead," I reply. He laughs at this, humor evident in his aura.

"Well, that's a nice little workaround," he says. "The Church has its own military now to deal with rampaging Widows, Mantises, and such it seems, so we won't need the League to protect our temples, if you're willing to share, naturally. Terms can be worked out, I'm sure. What is that armor they're wearing, by the way, and why carry guns and blades with their natural abilities at their disposal? Surely they don't need the extra firepower?" He queries, and the League officials are cursing quietly, seeming alarmed at the Church no longer being dependent on them for military aid.

"The guns are effective. Bolters fire mass reactive, rocket propelled, armor piercing shells. That is the basic weapon of the Sororitas. Others wield heavy flamers, plasma cannon stronger than any you would be able to develop for three thousand years at least, multi-melta, which are heavy fusion weapons, lascannon, heavy bolters, and missile launchers intended to kill whatever they hit with their projectiles. Chainswords have monomolecular edges on their blades, which rotate at high speeds, and power swords are shrouded in molecular disruption fields. All in all, I think the guns are useful," I explain, and shocked gasps and nods agree with this pronouncement. "They are wearing power armor, which increases their physical abilities by at least an order of magnitude. They are well trained, well disciplined, and utterly devoted to the Church. I'll loan you Sororitas to train more of their number so every temple following a faith allowing military action can have its own squad. Most will probably be dedicated to the Cult Imperial, but the Sororitas protect the Church and humanity. You will have your soldiers."

"I find that to be a great comfort indeed, ..." the leader of the delegation trails off, clearly expecting something. A moment later, he makes it clear what information he wants. "As the establisher of your church in this world, well, both churches to be exact, you hold the highest rank in those churches. Now, some religions use High Priest, some use Pope, others use something else entirely. So what does your church use?" He asks.

"Ecclesiarch for the Cult Imperial. Fabricator General for the Mechanicus," I reply.

"Excellent. My thanks for your offer of military aid from the Cult Imperial, Ecclesiarch Frostkin," he replies, and in that moment, I realize what has just happened. I am now officially the highest authority in the God Emperor's Church, at least in this universe. A shout of praise rises from the Sororitas.

"The Mechanicus will offer tanks and skitarii. We are currently vat growing and genetically altering skitarii for their duties, and should be able to provide them plus a maniple of the Legio Cybernetica within a month," I add.

"My thanks, Fabricator General. Well, I'll leave you to your duties then. This tank, _Ragnar's Fury,_ obviously needs attention. I'm sure you're eager to get it going, so I'll leave and observe these Sororitas training, if that is acceptable," the priest says. I nod, and call up what data is available on him. Archpriest Alexandros, a high ranking member of the Church, though not leading the faith of the god he worships. He is a powerful voice in the faction that calls for the Church to be able to protect itself rather than needing help from League forces, as ever since recent Widow, Zombabe, and Mantis attacks have become more common, the League has begun pleading stretched resources to avoid assisting, when there are resources available and nearby.

"It is my duty to preserve humanity. It is my pleasure to assist you. The Emperor protects," I respond, making the sign of the aquila. Alexandros bows in response, and follows one of the Sisters Superior and her squad to the training grounds. Almost 300 of the Sororitas are now clad in power armor, out of nearly a thousand that answered the call to join. Soon they will all be in armor, ready for battle. But not quite yet.

"I don't think the League can sanction this facility existing," one of the officials tries to say, before one of his companions elbows him and reminds him that this is now a holy shrine, and as such outside their influence, then addresses me himself.

"The League wishes to request the assistance of your Sororitas to protect certain sites where vital research is being conducted. Among out current guards, there have been leaks of information. The research is on Threshold and how it might be influenced to provide certain desired breeds, as well as how evolution might be manipulated in pokegirls. However, the guards we have, while competent in their task, were unable to keep what was being researched from being discovered, as one of our Tamers who was part of the guard details sold us out. We need military force and loyal guards," he explains.

"I am a single Tamer. I am currently using my abilities as a psyker to prevent the regression of the Sororitas to a feral state. Now, I could do this indefinitely, and provide you guards who will be disciplined, fierce, and able to turn back any assault. They will remain loyal as well, but why should I give you Sororitas? They are mine to command, and I have uses for them besides serving you, who is no friend of the Church. I am beginning to figure out how to create temporary clones of myself from warp energy to deal with physically taming squads of them, so soon they may be deployed far from me, which means there will be even more call for them. So again, why should I help?" I ask him.

"You have no obligation to. I have absolutely no right to ask. The Church needs these soldiers. But the League is willing to pay, and acknowledge your church's right to tithing," he replies. To tax worshippers, I do need League approval, and the Church does need funds. "Also, once monthly, you will be given a pokegirl of your choice, if it is in our possession. Besides that, the Ruby League will provide you with lands for temples and forges, so your religion may spread more easily. We'll even provide raw materials at lower prices for the forges, if you give us the temporary use of Sororitas troops."

"Forty percent on the prices. Two pokegirls a month. Lands are to be selected by us, one selected area of land to be granted each week. 250,000 SLC per week. Acknowledged rights to tithing. Use of troops not to extend beyond two years without the contract being renewed with me. Take it or leave it," I respond.

"We'll take it. Papers will be drawn up, naturally?" He asks, and I nod in response. "Very well, a pleasure doing business with you, sir. I'll just be going, if you don't mind," he continues, and with my nod, he leaves, the other officials following behind him.

"Tala. Get _Ragnar's Fury _ready for deployment. I want it ready to kill the foe within an hour. There are seven more Leman Russes and a Baneblade that will be ready for activation today. I want them activated and out of the way as they come online. You will deal with the Leman Russ tanks now that I've shown you how. I am sending you all needed data on the rituals, just in case though, along with a list of possible names. I will awaken the Baneblade myself. Now get to work, Magos," I order, and she salutes before returning to her forge. The forge is immense now, twenty times the size it was originally, and moved so it settles in a valley between two peaks. With the technologies of the Mechanicus, creating a stable road to this valley was simple, and the forge will soon be expanding to fill the deserted mine shafts in these mountains and continue the mining, as well as begin more work. The mines are still very rich in ores, but they were abandoned due to roads here being unstable. Servitors were relatively quickly vat grown once I had my first batch of them, and now almost three thousand servitors work the forges. In the back of the forge, three Knight Titans are beginning to take shape, being prepared for war. A massive set of doors opens, and as one of the Geogals I have recently acquired takes up position in the driver's seat of the tank, _Ragnar's Fury _rumbles forward, heading towards a nearby depot where fuel and ammunition is stored, and it will be readied for battle there.

"Sir," a voice queries from behind me. I turn and see my Azhi Dahaka, Torami. She was unnamed before, and it amused me to relate her to the Warsmith I killed before I was sent to this universe.

"Yes?" I ask her.

"I have finished going over the designs for the fortress you plan on building. It will be easily defensible, and I could add little to the plans. I would like to request a taming session if you have the time, so as to build our bond more strongly. I'm only an architect, and I realize I have little use for you besides going over fortress plans, but I want something before you trade me away for a pokegirl that is more useful," she says, almost pleading.

"You are valuable to me. I will not be in one place for much longer. Only a few months at most. Tomorrow, we begin training to help you get stronger. I am going to be a Tamer, and so I'll have duties to fulfill, and you'll help me with this. You are and will always be of immense value to me, never doubt this," I tell her, and mean every word. "You never need to ask for a session. I will set up a schedule board where you might enter yourself for such things. My time is always yours to claim," I say fiercely. "How could you even think I would trade you? You are pack. You're mine, one of my comrades. The Wolf is nothing alone, so never dare think I will get rid of you ever again," I declare.

"You...you mean that?" Torami asks, and I nod without hesitation, flooding our bond with reassurance. She grabs me a moment later, dragging me to the bed chambers I keep near the forge, and I allow it. My work will not call me again for some time, after all. It is an hour before noon, and the Baneblade will not be completed for another seven hours.

_**Three hours later**_

"Well, I see Torami was educated most throughly," Tala says as she enters my rooms. My bed chamber is open, and behind me Torami is currently asleep, her pleasures having been seen to most throughly. Using psychic abilities to augment my physical abilities adds several dimensions to my abilities that most Tamers don't have. Also, Slaanesh spent a long time educating me on pleasure and pain when I visited his/her palace alongside Ragnar, saying it was knowledge I would soon need. Apparently, the Chaos God was right, not that that changes anything. I still loathe it completely, though I can't get at him/her/it for now.

"Indeed," is my only reply as I shut the door, having left a note for if she wakes. I would prefer to be with her, but there is work to do right now. "The fortress is begun?" I ask, and Tala nods.

"Yes. Also, two of the Leman Russ are named and ready to fight. The Executioner _Vulkan's Fist _and the Punisher _Ironstorm_," Tala says. "Along with them, I retrieved the data on Predators and have awakened the Baal Predators _Angel's Blade, Truth of War, _and _Purity Eternal."_

"Excellent," I say, pleased with this. Other Leman Russ variants and Predator variants will be completed soon, patterns little used by the Imperium, but I have remembered them well. "It is time for me to return to work. Is my forge ready?"

"It is, Fabricator General," Tala replies, bowing and leaving, with me following as I prepare to work in the forge.

**Three weeks later**

"The Sororitas are ready. Where are they to go?" I ask the League official who negotiated for their services three weeks ago. I have figured out the creation of these warp formed temporary copies of myself, and receive their memories once they vanish. I have been using them for the last week, and their expected time of endurance before new ones must be created is six months. Just to be sure though, they will be refreshed weekly, as I can form and then teleport them anywhere I choose.

"We are providing transport," says the official, a man by the name of Mark Cook. I raise an eyebrow as the armored forms of Sororitas march out of the newly raised fortress, guns ready. I was informed that they had four locations in need of guards, and planned accordingly. Eight Retributor Squads, four Celestian squads, sixteen Battle Sister squads, eight Seraphim squads, eight Dominion squads, and finally four squads of Terminator armored Sororitas. I was reluctant to clad them in Terminator armor, but they proved worthy. Eighty Thunderhawks fly overhead, some of them preparing to transport tanks. Immolators roll out behind the Sisters, six different variants making themselves known. One pattern has heavy flamers, another multi-meltas, another heavy bolters, another two sets of twin linked lascannon, another plasma cannons, and the last equipped with Tesla Cannon. Eight Land Raider Redeemers follow the Immolators, each of them ready for battle. Finally, twenty four Deimos Predators, twelve Executioners and twelve Infernus pattern, the Infernus evenly split between Magna-Melta and Flamestorm turret guns, follow. Heavy flamers, multi-meltas, plasma cannon, and lascannon are evident on their sponsons. Leman Russ tanks of various makes follow the Predators, prepared for combat, and more gunships land to take them as cargo, even as the Sororitas board their Thunderhawks.

"Where do the Sororitas go?" I ask again, and am provided with four sets of coordinates that I transmit to the Thunderhawks. I then turn and join the Sororitas. I have no intention of missing their first deployment, and one set of coordinates is near a place where this Team Rocket has been mustering forces. Perhaps I will get to see battle. As I board, I call to Torami to join me, along with Tala. Mira is on the Thunderhawk I am boarding, and Sexebi has elected to join the group as well. We board, and just a few minutes later, the Thunderhawk lifts off, a mighty armada of gunships following it. A few minutes out, the four forces split and head to each of the four destinations, my Thunderhawk heading towards the place where Team Rocket has mustered. Fifteen minutes before arrival, we receive a distress call from the facility, and the Sororitas prepare for battle. When we arrive, the Thunderhawks are diving out of cloud cover, preparing to surprise the foe. Mira transmits to the communications of the research facility a moment before we appear, and her voice booms from loudspeakers on the outside of the buildings, reaching the security guards who are desperately trying to stop the Rocket assault.

"In the Emperor's name, the Adepta Sororitas bring salvation!" She calls, and then the Thunderhawks plunge from the clouds, heavy bolters opening up. Seraphim drop from two of the Thunderhawks, swiftly clearing a landing zone where Battle Sisters, Retributors, and the Land Raiders are immediately deployed, guns opening up. I am in the first Thunderhawk that lands, and accompanied by Mira's Celestian Squad, Celeste's Retributor squad, and the Terminator squad attached to this force, I charge.

"FOR RUSS AND THE ALLFATHER!" I howl as I begin slaughtering the foes. I am in power armor, a three meter plus giant, and I clutch a force axe in one hand and a frostsword in the other as I rip apart the enemy. Pokegirl and human alike falls before me, more Thunderhawks landing and releasing cargos of Sororitas or battle tanks, and bolter fire rips into the enemy ranks. Cannons boom, and the group of Giantesses supporting the Rockets for some reason are hit, several dying. Within an hour, the enemy forces are broken, and without delay we take up the guard at this place. I stride forward to the person in charge of the guards here, intending to make the introductions.

"Who are you, and why are you here?" He snarls at me, raising a pistol in one hand, a pokeball in the other. "This is a League facility, and you will leave or be disposed of," he continues.

"Harald Frostkin, leading a detachment of the Adepta Sororitas. We just saved your lives, and have an official set of orders from your League that authorize us to be here. We're taking up the guard here, so go, get some rest, then get out of here. You'll just get in our way, mortal," I reply, handing him the orders. He looks at them for a moment, then his pistol and the pokeball fall to the ground as he stumbles back, falling over a moment later, face white with shock.

"Y...y...yes sir!" He replies, attempting to lift his trembling hand to salute. I grab the scroll with the orders recorded on it, and note Upsilon level command authority, which places me only four levels below the highest command authority possible. Likely a higher level than this man has ever seen before, and authority sufficient to ruin him utterly if he disobeys.

"Good. Now, get to work. I want you out of here in two days. We're going to need you gone so you don't send your pokegirls into close combat and ruin our fields of fire with our tanks and the Retributor squads," I tell him.

"As ordered. Before we go, we need to gather the surviving pokegirls whose Tamers were killed in the fight. The enemy focused on killing our tamers, so there are several. When something like this happens, and there are survivors, we usually spread them between the survivors evenly. There were fifty of us Tamers here, and only seventeen of us survived, while a lot of the pokegirls can still be healed. We need at least a week for that though, and we'll let you choose your share in the 'girls, as thanks for bailing us out of hot water," another of them says. He wears the insignia of the second in command here.

"Very well. You are Tyren Malikar, correct?" I ask. He was described as a level headed soldier, excellent as a second in command. He rose from the rank of basic infantryman to become an ideal sergeant, and sadly was later promoted from squad command to become a lieutenant and good second in command for captains at several posts. He knows how to take the mood of the men wherever he is, and is good with morale. Not command material himself so far as the League is concerned, but in the Imperium, he would be a general waiting to happen, ideal for the rank. Charismatic, competent, leads by example. Those are the kinds of things that most good commanders look for, and if he survived any length of time, and he's reportedly a good fighter himself, he would rise quickly in the ranks. Eventually, some Lord General or Warmaster would notice him and he'd be leading an army shortly afterwards, probably doing very well for himself. He nods in reply.

"I am, sir. May we have the time for all our 'girls to recover, or will we have to leave some behind? If we have to leave any behind to recover, I request permission to stay while they heal, sir," Malikar replies.

"Permission granted. Stay out of our way in a fight. You'll be staying anyway, though. Here, you'll never reach command rank. You don't bend to the will of bureaucracy enough for that. Where I'm from though, you'd be a general waiting to happen. I have uses for you, Malikar. Military application. No bureaucracy, just straight up warfare. Sanctuary is a threat, as are Widows, Zombabes, Mantis hordes, and other forces. I want you to command forces that will protect our holdings. The Sororitas of the Cult Imperial and the Skitarii of the Cult Mechanicus will be the army of the Church. I want you to command the Skitarii. They are being vat grown right now. They are genetically engineered for superior abilities, roughly two or three times that of a normal man before they get their implants. Before they go into military service, they have much of their flesh replaced with various machine augmentations, including implanted weaponry. They are lethal, disciplined, and dedicated. Before two more weeks have passed, the first regiment of skitarii will be ready. They will have tanks, gunships, and weapons meant to destroy the foes of humanity. You will be their general, augmented to lead them by example in the field. I want a good commander for them who is not a skitarii, one with the imagination they lack. That will be you, and all you have to do is say one word," I tell him.

"Sir yes sir! It will be my honor to serve, sir!" Malikar responds without an instant of hesitation. "May I keep my pokegirls, sir?" He asks quickly. I nod in response, and he looks relieved. "I'm your man, sir. Give me an honest fight, without bureaucratic oversight, or even the chance to be in an honest army, and I'll follow you wherever you lead. I'll accept being a grunt again if it means being away from the bureaucrats," he says, relieved at getting this offer. I laugh loudly, and Mira comes over and drags him into the Sororitas' ranks.

"Glad to have you. You'll fit right in, Malikar. Your first mission, once the skitarii are ready and we head back to our base, will be simple. There is a colony of Giantesses near our forge. Purge it with all force necessary. You'll have five maniples of the Legio Cybernetica, fighting robots, three Knight class Titans, nine meter tall walkers carrying heavy guns and close combat weapons, Leman Russ and Predator tanks, which are main line battle tanks, Baneblades, which are super heavy tanks, variants on those tanks, Sentinels, light walkers with a single gun fit for your average tank, Exorcists and Whirlwinds, which are missile tanks, Immolators, which are light battle tanks with twin gun turrets, and of course infantry troops. Will any other resources be required?" I ask him, and he suddenly looks like a kid on Emperor's Day.

"No sir. No other resources required. How large are these maniples of the Legio Cybernetica?" He replies, his tone reverent.

"Five fighting machines. Each carries heavy guns on them, which would normally be a heavy weapon carried by a fireteam. That's five men, in the system I'm used to. For Sororitas, those guns are heavy weapons carried by Retributor squads, and they have smaller versions of them," I inform Malikar. "I was dimensionally displaced to arrive on this world, and the technology I'm used to is thousands of years ahead of yours. Sororitas wear power armor, and they are much stronger because of it. The weapons of Cybernetica robots are things such as multi-meltas, which are fusion weapons, plasma cannons, which shoot star hot plasma that can explode after burning through its target, heavy flamers, which are flamethrowers with better range and hotter fires, heavy bolters, which shoot high caliber, rocket propelled, armor piercing, explosive rounds, lascannon, which are high powered laser weapons, and other such interesting toys." Malikar appears to be off in some fantasy world, his eyes almost glittering.

"They sound so...so...so perfect," he says in a tone of wonder. "Heavy firepower and armor, combined with perfect discipline, since they're machines. I am not going to regret coming to work for you, sir."

"Of course not," Mira replies in a tone that says what he just declared is something so obvious everyone knows it. "To serve Lord Ecclesiarch Frostkin, or as you will know him, Fabricator General Frostkin, is something that no one regrets. I wanted power when I decided to follow him. The power to make a difference, to strike down any evil. He gave me that power, and so he has my complete loyalty. Torami wanted a home, and he has given her one that will never be taken away. Celeste wanted the ability to fight evil and help people rather than just have to stand by helplessly. Widows were not something she could fight. Nor could she beat a Mantis, or throw back a Zombabe horde, or beat off assaults by Team Trauma tamers. They would have numbers, or power, or something else, and we would always fail to protect both our temples and our town. Harald gave Celeste the ability to fight. He put weapons into her hands, and taught her to use them. Shrine Priestesses and Shrine Maidens may be strong, but they can fall. And they're fragile, so make easy targets. Seraphs and Warrior Nuns are durable, but our defenses may be overwhelmed. We can make a difference that we couldn't before, and that's all we need." Mira lectures him. He turns to me a moment later, and speaks.

"Sir, if you grant one desire to your followers, their own desire, then grant me this. I don't want to be pensioned off when I get old. I don't want to retire and write my memoirs. All I want is a clean death, in battle. Promise me that I'll get that, and my loyalty is yours," he says.

"Granted. I would ask no man to retire who can still lift a blade or a gun. Juvenat treatments will be available for you. They restore youth and will keep you in fighting shape until you die, Praetor Malikar. I'll introduce you to your Tribunes once they are ready, in a couple of days. Those will be your battlefield commanders. As a Praetor, you are overall commander of all Skitarii regiments. You answer to Mechanicus Magi and Archmagi only, as do they. You will be expected to lead from the front, and will receive augmentations that will enhance fighting capability. Am I understood?" I ask him.

"Yes, Fabricator General," Malikar replies, and salutes. A moment later, he turns and marches into the research facility, towards the guard barracks that is set up. "I'll go grab my stuff from the barracks. Can I set up in one of those gunships and get some sleep?"

"Of course. However, the Sororitas will be setting up prefabricated shelters they brought with them. Each will contain a squad, and there were several brought as spares. They have a bed, a shower of sorts, and the bed is large enough for you to celebrate living through this fight with your pokegirls. All that you need right now, I think. Rations come in the form of meals that were made and sealed. A small oven comes with the shelter also. Each meal consists of fresh, cold water, meat, bread, and a vegetable or fruit choice added to it. And it is real meat, not some chemical made imitation," I tell him, and he turns to look at me in shock. "Eat, shower, celebrate, and get a solid ten hours of sleep. Can I trust you to do that?"

"Yes sir, thank you very much sir, that's all I really want to do right now sir," Malikar replies instantly. I definitely like him. A solid soldier, who knows his job and just wants to do it. Honest men like him are too hard to find, and I usually take a liking to them quickly. Pity he's too old to become an Astartes. The Battle Sister squads are already setting up one of the spare shelters for him, as well as adapting it into a one man shelter, and the weary League troopers are trudging towards their barracks. Several thank the Sororitas for bailing them out of the mess they were in as they pass them, and thanks are called to me as well. I instruct the Sororitas to see to battlefield aid and getting the men a hot meal, and receive a tired cheer in response. Malikar is taking pains to look as if he is ready to go another ten rounds, but he is as tired as the others. Only the site commander is rested, and he and his 'girls clearly didn't fight. I hear him speaking with them, with them apparently angry about bring kept from battle. The site CO is James Cook, nephew of the man I met with before coming here, I find as I check the records.

"Commander Cook, consider yourself on report. You will be undergoing a court martial and actions will be taken to reprimand you for cowardice. Were you a soldier under my command, you would be executed for cowardice in the face of the enemy," I call out as I head to the Thunderhawks to speak with the pilots about contacting the other Sororitas. He tries to stammer out an explanation, which I ignore, and another tired cheer arises from his troopers at my words. Cowards will not receive leniency on my watch, and the court martial will be arranged as soon as I can manage it.

"Sir!" Call the two Sororitas who took up guard on the Thunderhawk I rode here on. They snap to attention, bolters at port arms.

"Ready the Thunderhawk for flight. The force we faced here are only a part of the forces that were reported as gathering nearby. I'm going to take this and two other Thunderhawks, see where the others are. I'll take the Celestians, the Terminators, one of the Seraphim squads, one of the Retributor squads, and two Battle Sister squads with me. I'll also take a Land Raider Redeemer, just in case," I inform them, and they salute. I turn and call orders to the selected squads, and five minutes later they have abandoned their task of setting up their shelters, now left to their comrades, and are preparing to board the Thunderhawks. Nine Thunderhawks are warming up, engines beginning to cycle. Several of the pilots argued that I may need extra air support and transporters for more tanks, and after a moment, I agreed.

Now two Leman Russ battle tanks and a Leman Russ Executioner join the Land Raider as tanks being transported, along with a Predator Destructor, a Predator Infernus with a Magna-Melta, and a Baal Predator. To finish the group, a Basilisk artillery tank and a Whirlwind are picked up by another Thunderhawk, leaving me two Thunderhawks for air cover. With a command, six more pilots race to their Thunderhawks, and a moment later, the engines begin to cycle on those Thunderhawks as well. Another command, and a Leman Russ Executioner, a Deimos Executioner, a Deimos Infernus with a Flamestorm Cannon, and a Predator Annihilator are added to our tanks. A formidable armored fist, which should bring down any foe the enemy can muster.

"Prepare to board. Take off in ten minutes, be prepared for a hot landing, I want us out and firing five seconds after the ramp drops," Courtney instructs her squad. A Warrior Nun, she commands a squad of Battle Sisters with dedication. Not good at large unit tactics, so she'll stay at squad command, but she does well with small units.

"Understood," her squad choruses. With the constant drill she subjects them to, it is very easily believable that they can manage that. An Astartes squad would take half the time she desires from her squad, naturally, but only the most disciplined of the Guard would be able to match such a rate of deployment.

"We board now," Mira instructs, and Courtney's squad races onto their Thunderhawk, claiming the seats closest to the ramp. The other Battle Sister squad and the Seraphim follow, while Celeste, Mira, and the Terminator squad leader, a Warrior Nun by the name of Joan, board the Thunderhawk I am boarding. Ten minutes later, engines howl, and five squadrons of Thunderhawk gunships lift off. Mere minutes later, we are over the enemy base, concealed by cloud cover, and find that the enemy sent only part of their forces for one reason. They were testing the defenses. Contained by force fields, they have hundreds, if not thousands, of Zombabes, along with a dozen Widows. Giantesses are contained within another set of force fields, dozens of them ready to be sent into battle. I curse with feeling as I notice all of this. The Sororitas need to learn to stand alone, and I hoped to use this mission as a learning experience for that. But they cannot yet stand against such a force. We need to buy time, and a moment later, three of the escorting Thunderhawks, unencumbered by either tanks or passengers, roar past the other Thunderhawks and prepare to dive in and attack, dipping their wings in a salute.

"We'll do what's needed. We'll shoot until the guns run dry, then crash our Thunderhawks and hope to take some with us. This force field design only stops stuff from getting out, not from getting in. The generators are protected, so we'll just have to kill enemy troops instead. Our sisters cannot yet defeat such forces. Good hunting, and we'll see you at the Golden Throne," the lead pilot of the squadron, a Seraph named Angeline, voxes to all of us. The other two pilots, Warrior Nuns named Britney and Anna, vox their agreement. Each Thunderhawk has a pilot and a servitor controlling it. The sacrifice will be minimal, but it will have an effect.

"Good hunting, and you will be remembered. The first Sororitas to fall in battle. A monument will be raised to all the fallen sisters, and yours will be the first names on it," I promise.

"Thank you sir," Angeline replies, before switching to an open channel and beginning to sing the battle hymn of the Sororitas. "A spiritu dominatus, domino, libra nos..." she begins, then I interject one last command on a private channel.

"When you go down, bail out once you have your Thunderhawks set on a course. Bail out among the enemy humans, and take as many of them down as you can," I instruct the three. "You have power armor, power swords, and bolters. I think you'll manage. Keep your bolt pistols ready as well. If driven into the Zombabes, save the last round for yourself. I would not have you suffer such a fate," I tell them.

"Yes sir," Anna replies, and the other two agree. I then join them in the battle hymn, and the other Sororitas follow their example. They will be remembered, and they will be avenged, I vow as the heavy bolters of the three Thunderhawks open up.

"Give them fire support. Empty our missile racks. Use the Turbolasers and battle cannon. Three volleys of the big guns, then open up with the lascannon. Empty the power cells, kill the enemy buildings and vehicles. We'll do what we can. They have anti-air guns and strong pokegirls with ranged attacks down there, and I can't justify bringing us into bolter range, but I'll be damned if we don't give what support we can," Mira orders, and I confirm it. She'll do well once I head out to wander. The guns open up, and enemy structures and anti-air emplacements die to clear the now committed squadron's first and last attack run. As the guns finish, the twelve remaining Thunderhawks veer off, returning to base as three of our ships make their runs. This mission will succeed thanks to their sacrifice. I silently praise them for their sacrifice as we head back to base. Now the Sororitas can learn their lesson on how to manage without me, and they will be forged in battle, becoming truly worthy of their title.

**_Like this chapter? Harald will not be in one place for much longer. He's setting up a support structure, then he will venture out into the world to take his place in it. Now, the Sororitas get their first major battle, and their first martyrs. Once Harald is no longer needed to nursemaid them through preparing to fulfill their role as holy soldiers, he will be able to travel. As a ten thousand year old soldier, he knows he needs a support structure before he can be effective, and he'll try and bring order to this world. Should be interesting, hmm? Please read and review, thank you._**


	5. Chapter 5

**_A New Realm_**

**_A Warhammer 40k and pokegirls crossover_**

**_Disclaimer: Refer to chapter 1 for disclaimer._**

**_Chapter 5_**

**_Thought for the Day: The wage of the traitor is death._**

**_Harald POV_**

"Fabricator General, we received the data about the enemy encampment," Praetor Malikar reports. I nod, striding off the Thunderhawk, armored boots ringing against the ramp. Barricades are being created to give the Sororitas cover, but they are only being set up in front of one of the four passes leading to this facility.

"I can see that from the preparation. But why are you not barricading all four passes?" I ask, then a muffled explosion answers my question. The earth rumbles as explosives go off in carefully selected areas, exploiting fault lines. Swiftly, rocks tumble to block one of the passes, creating a wall of rubble roughly half a kilometer from the entrance to the road. That will delay enemies and give a chance to reset the barricades if need be. Then the flare of melta bombs flashes for a moment in holes that appear to have been drilled into the stone of the path in front of the rock wall, and for two hundred meters from the new wall, all the earth vanishes, leaving a chasm almost eighty meters deep. So even if the enemy clears the wall, they fall into the chasm. Even as I nod approvingly at this, the same happens at both other passes. The last pass, where the barricades are being erected, is even now being reinforced. Torami is organizing the creation of concealed sniper posts on the cliffs, weapons emplacements being set up along the walls of the mountain pass even as heavy weapons nests are built behind the barricades, and a minefield being created for three kilometers to help stall the enemy advance, with the weapons emplacements being linked to fire when the mines go off, killing anything that survives through sheer weight of fire.

"Harald!" Torami calls with relief filling her tone.

"Torami," I respond calmly. "You're doing well with the fortifications, covering the passes well. I take it the rocks blocking the other passes have a few surprises among them?"

"Of course. Unexploded charges that will go off when proximity sensors detect the presence of the enemy. Or, I can detonate them manually. Plus, we'll be installing heavy flamers with proximity triggers in the walls of those new chasms to make it harder to fill them with bodies," Torami replies, and I smile proudly.

"Excellent. If you were an Iron Warrior, you'd be earning the rank of Warsmith before long, I think," I reply with pride in my voice, and she blushes in response. It looks odd for the nearly seven foot, heavily muscled, armor scaled draconic female to blush, but I accept it as a simple difference of mortals and Astartes.

"Also, I'm going one step further. Choke points were identified along the pass, or at least places where a few explosives can be used to create choke points by exploiting fault lines to narrow the pass with rockslides, and some of the Sororitas volunteered to hold those choke points. Those prefabricated blockhouses we brought are being set up in those places, carried by Thunderhawks, and each one is being assigned an Immolator, two heavy weapons, and five Sororitas. Barricades are being set up at each one, and explosives connected to the Sororitas' armor are being rigged. The moment all seven Sororitas, counting the Immolator's crew, have fallen, the explosives will go off. The Immolator has its own explosives that have the same condition. They'll disable but not destroy it, however it will not be able to be brought against us," Torami explains. "Four different points besides this one are being held by the Sororitas, and more of them will be arriving shortly, tripling the forces we have here."

"Excellent. The Imperium was built on the blood of martyrs, who inspired their comrades to similar heroics. Now, the Sororitas will have their own examples. Those warriors who will die to hold back the enemy have my respect for their courage. May the Emperor receive them as the heroes they are," I say, and the four squads of Sororitas who are mustering near a quartet of Thunderhawks raise their bolters in salute. All are carrying power swords, bolters, plasma pistols, and hand flamers. Crates of ammunition for their weapons are being brought aboard the Thunderhawks, along with heavy weapons in the form of autocannons, multi-meltas, plasma cannons, and heavy flamers. In each of the squads, one of the Sororitas is carrying a lascannon, and another one is carrying a missile launcher. Bolters are maglocked to the backs of the heavy weapons carrying Sororitas, and even as I watch, one Sororitas from each of the squads grabs a heavy bolter and starts loading crates of ammunition for the heavy weapons aboard the Thunderhawks.

"Apparently they decided to go with full squads instead of fire teams," Torami says, and I nod. The Sister Superiors of the squads appear, clad in Terminator armor. Gauntlet mounted storm bolters on both hands, Iron Halos, thunder hammers, and storm shields complete the wargear of the squad leaders, and I decide to allow them the honor of Terminator gear since they will be providing an example for their sisters. I salute them casually, lifting my force axe in respect to them. They raise their blades in similar salute, then the squads board their Thunderhawks, the gunships taking off even as more come in to land.

"Mira," I say over the vox.

"Yes, Ecclesiarch?" She asks, responding instantly.

"You have command of this battle. It is time for the Sororitas to prove themselves upon the anvil of war. Yours are the decisions that will win or lose," I command.

"Yes, my lord. I will not fail," Mira says. Around her, I can hear several Sororitas swearing oaths of moment, vowing to strike down the foe at any cost. The whir of assault cannons being test fired, the rattle of autocannons and heavy bolters being readied and bursts of fire checking that the weapons are combat worthy, and the hiss of flamers as pilot lights are set fill the air as well. Plasma cannons and multi-meltas are warming up in the hands of Retributors nearby, the heavy weaponry being prepared to avenge the fallen. The snap of lascannon fire splits the air as one Retributor, in a blur of motion, raises her weapon to the sky, sights a target, aims, and fires. A shriek fills the air, and from the skies topples a formerly flying pokegirl, head missing and a poison mist replacing it. A Zombabe that was sent to scout our defenses, no doubt. Upon examination of the images of the Zombabes we acquired in out scouting flight, it was noticed that part of their heads had been replaced with cybernetics, no doubt providing control mechanisms for the enemy.

"Good shooting," I compliment the Retributor responsible, who snaps her lascannon to port arms as I approach. The Zombabe hits the ground and is durable enough that the body remains intact. Another Retributor swiftly brings her heavy flamer to bear and torches the corpse, removing any possibility of contamination. Even as I walk towards the Retributor who brought the enemy scout down, she swiftly drops to one knee, replaces the power pack on the lascannon, and fires at another target in the skies, bringing down yet another winged foe. Four more times her lascannon fires after that, and four more Zombabes fall from the skies and their bodies are burned. "Excellent shooting. Practically sniper shooting using a lascannon," I state, the Sororitas rising once more and bringing her lascannon back to port arms.

"I practice a lot, my lord," she states. {Marian, Shrine Maiden, Retributor} appears on my display, and I nod in acknowledgement of her statement.

"However, there is natural skill there too, no doubt, Marian," I reply. Even as I do so, I morph my left forearm into a lascannon, casually lift the barrel, and two seconds later, ten lascannon shots have fired and downed ten unnoticed enemy fliers, who took advantage of cloud cover. "Work at it. You'll be legendary for your skill with a lascannon one day, no doubt," I state.

"Thank you, my lord," Marian replies, and I turn away, letting her return to her squad. Then I turn back and halt her for a moment with a hand on her shoulder. I bring forth a pair of purity seals from a pouch at my waist, long ribbons of parchment with oaths of purity and vengeance inscribed on them, connected to red wax seals. I use a swift burst of psychic flame to heat the wax, then place the seals on her armor and lascannon. I then turn away once more, satisfied with her new adornments.

"Take your places at the defenses. We have less than two hours before the enemy advance reaches the first choke point," I instruct, checking the strategic map that was supplied by the command unit's database. Leman Russ tanks roll to positions behind barricades, turret guns rising over the barricades, forward gun poking through a firing slit, and sponsons waiting for the time the tank will leave the barricade and engage the enemy directly. Predators take up similar placements, while Immolators assume positions behind the main battle tanks, protecting newly arrived Basilisks and Whirlwinds. In front of the barricades, newly arrived Macharius, Malcador, and Ragnarok heavy battle tanks and their variants assume position, providing another line of armor. Praetor heavy missile tanks assume position with the Basilisks and Whirlwinds, with Manticores and Deathstrikes joining the group to round out our artillery. Hydras are scattered throughout the force, taking up lines behind the true fighting tanks, both to act as anti-infantry and anti-air. Hellhounds, Bane Wolves, and Devil Dogs are also scattered throughout the force, there to destroy the bodies of enemies. Sentinels stalk forward to join the infantry at their barricades, between the tanks and the artillery.

Finally, Land Raider Redeemers and Crusaders join the three Stormlords that will be our front line, hopefully holding the enemy back for a while. Freshly arrived Sororitas squads are getting into position, readying their weapons even as the base guards and their 'girls prepare for action, taking combat stimulants and getting offered power armor on, their 'girls largely refusing the gear though. Several of the guards' pokegirls accept weapons and a couple do don power armor, but they will have to be a last line. The tanks are instructed to retreat once an enemy unit gets within twenty five meters, as the Zombabes are likely to have remote detonated breaching charges attached now that the enemy has seen our tanks. The enemy will get to the Sororitas most likely, given their numbers, but we will fight our hardest to hold them back when they meet our infantry. That will be the one point we refuse to break at until overrun. I lumber to my own place, Terminator armor crunching stone beneath my feet with every footfall.

"Sir, where do you want us?" Malikar asks tiredly, and I gesture towards the rearguard.

"You have fewer combat capable soldiers among you. Ensure we have a fall back point," I order, and Malikar salutes, then rushes off to relay the order to his fellows. Moments later, they are forming up to ensure the place where a last stand will be made should it prove necessary is secure. Should it come to it, I will shake the earth with my rage and burn the foe to nothing with the flames of my hate. But this is the crucible where the Sororitas will be proven until that moment.

"Harald, a little help with the scientists please," Celeste requests of me over the vox. "They're proving reluctant to prepare for the worst case scenario, where they remove all they can and destroy the rest."

"Very well. I will instruct them in good sense then," I rumble, snarling at their wasting my time. I decide on the weapons I'll use in the coming battle, and my left hand now clutches an assault cannon, the other bears a rune axe. On each gauntlet is a heavy flamer for use when I begin to be pressed, and a rune sword hangs at my waist for when the enemy must be engaged in melee and the assault cannon is useless. I will proceed as if I am not an Obliterator, and fight simply as a Terminator, until and unless the time comes to unleash my full wrath.

"Thank you," Celeste replies. Half an hour later, with three executions of non vital personnel, I have gotten the scientists to comply and the Sororitas squads manning the choke points have reported in that they are in position. All of the forces are in place and settled in for the wait, Hydras keeping aerial scouts from troubling us, while Thunderhawks ensure the enemy doesn't try one of the blocked passes and possibly get lucky enough to catch us in the rear or a flank. Another forty five minutes passes, then the first choke point contacts us.

"We have visual confirmation of the enemy," the squad leader, a Celestian by the name of Brigid, reports. "In the Emperor's name, we will purge them."

"The Emperor protects, and He avenges His own," Mira replies.

"Indeed, Canoness," Brigid responds, before launching into a battle prayer. "Praise the Emperor for his sacrifice, as He endures so shall we! Founded to be His wrathful hand were we, the Chamber Militant of His Church, the Adepta Sororitas! The hunters in the night! Wherever the heretic dares make their stand, we shall fight! We are His Hammer! We are His Hate! We are the END! Death. Death! DEATH! **DEATH!**" The Sororitas squad roar as one into the vox channel, defying the foe. The roaring of bolter fire accompanies their words, with lascannon, heavy bolter, and missile fire accompanying it. A moment later, plasma cannon fire from the Immolator joins the barrage, and I hear the howling of the air as multi-melta fire strikes down more foes, the rattle of an autocannon providing a counterpoint to the howl. The Sororitas hold out for half an hour, and the kill tally rises above a thousand enemies, including three Giantesses, before the Sororitas fall, roaring litanies of hatred to the last. Then the explosives go off, and I see that the bodies of the Sororitas are destroyed, unable to be violated by the foe. Brigid was the last of her squad to fall, reaping the lives of over two hundred of the foe personally before she fell. I vow to raise a toast to her once this battle is over.

"Squad two, preparing for combat. We will match our fallen sisters, for the glory of Him on Terra!" The squad manning the second choke point declares in unison, making their oath of moment.

"Acknowledged. Die well, sisters," Mira tells them. "This is our crucible. This is where we are tested on the anvil of war. The Emperor watches, dare not disappoint Him! Dare not to fail Him! Death to the unclean!"

"Death to the unclean!" Every Sororitas in the force choruses. Then a voice hits all of our minds.

_**"Indeed, I watch, and you have pleased me greatly this day. Let the blood of your martyred sisters inflame you, my daughters. Fight well, for you defend a place where humanity seeks to advance its knowledge, to grow,"**_The Emperor thunders. I hear weeping from many of the Sororitas, and know every single one of them heard it. A moment later, I feel my soul temporarily leave the realm of the living, along with those of every one of the Sororitas, and be placed for a moment in the realms of the dead. Before us stands a magnificent golden palace, burning with light. Astartes stand at the gates, and I see the thirteen Sororitas who have died so far on the long road to the palace, trudging there in armor scarred and stained by battle. Then a flare of golden light engulfs them, and a moment later, they stand, armor restored, wounds healed, and their bodies cleaned of the grime of war, before the gates of the palace.

"What?" Brigid asks. She has clearly assumed command of these martyrs. Many other Sororitas who were on the road were also transported to the gates and restored, and I see the gates have opened, every member of the Sororitas who ever fell in His service waiting in the hall beyond, the Emperor standing behind the throng of His fallen warriors within the palace, His Saints and fallen Primarchs alongside Him.

_**"Brigid. Angeline. Britney. Anna. Gwen. Mary. Alice. Isis. Diane. Lara. Beth. Eleanor. Catherine. All of you have made me proud this day,"**_the Emperor speaks, and his voice is weighted with power. _**"Stand forth from your sisters. This day, you join me at table, and eat at my right hand. The Imperium is built on the blood of martyrs. But you, born in another dimension entirely, far from here, with nothing but faith, embraced its ideals and gave your lives to defend humanity, martyring yourselves so others might live. Others of your sisters will soon come and join you. But this day, I proclaim that though you are genetically different from humanity, though altered by a madman long ago, you are human. You are Sororitas, my wrathful hand, my beloved daughters. The Black Bell will toll to mourn you, for you died heroes."** _

"Hail, Sister," One of the Sororitas says, turning to Angeline. "How did you fall?" She asks curiously. From the markings on her armor, a former Celestian.

"I was a Thunderhawk pilot. When we sighted the enemy camp while on a scouting mission, the enemy force was too large for my sisters to face. I emptied my guns, as did Britney and Anna, then we crashed our Thunderhawks into large concentrations of enemy forces, after setting the self destruct of course. We bailed out, landed among the enemy forces, which consisted largely of undead, and used all our bolter rounds save one, then drew our chainswords and power knives, fighting to the last. When we were about to be overwhelmed, the last round claimed us, keeping our bodies from being contaminated," Angeline declares proudly. Her wings are spread wide behind her, enhancing her profile dramatically.

"A worthy death, sister," the Celestian states, and embraces Angeline as a sister, acknowledging her as Sororitas instead of a mutant pretender, as it seemed several Sororitas were about to do. I raise my blade in salute to them from afar.

_**"Harald Frostkin. You taught your disciples well,"**_the Emperor declares, and all eyes turn to me. Blades are raised in salute from the fallen. **_"Brigid and her squad fell holding a choke point against a horde of the undead, and even slew three of the enemy's bio-titans."_**The Sororitas start looking at the thirteen fallen of my trainees with more respect, and several grudgingly nod in acknowledgement of them. _**"A finer death they could not have made. For Harald's sake, I would have acknowledged you. For your sake, I accept you as my own** **daughters,"**_ the Emperor tells Brigid, who bows deeply.

"Lord Frostkin, make them pay," Britney says, and I nod.

**"You will be avenged," **I rumble, my voice thunderous, promising doom to the enemy. **"On that, you have my oath. My Emperor, what are your orders?"**

**_"Break them. Shatter their power. Turn their joyous laughter to wails of lamentation. Burn the homes of those who slew my daughters, and sow their fields with salt, water them with the blood of the enemy. Ensure that the vengeance that is taken is remembered for a thousand years,"_ **He commands.

**"As you will, so shall it be done," **I respond, and we vanish as the fallen enter the Emperor's palace, going to their well earned rest. We are returned to our bodies, and our resolve is iron.

"For the Church. For our fallen sisters. For the Emperor. KILL THEM! KILL THEM ALL!" Mira screams, and the Sororitas roar, righteous wrath kindled in them. The guards of the base look pale, and I remember that they were drawn with us.

"Sir. Fabricator General. That...that palace of steel and iron, and the golden lord of shining steel and flesh that received the fallen at the gates...was that the palace of the Omnissiah I was told of?" Malikar asks over the vox in his assigned power armor.

"Yes. It was." I respond. Clearly, the Emperor appeared to Malikar as the Omnissiah, since Malikar is dedicated to Him in that aspect. "That was His palace. That was where you will rest after death."

"Then I think...no, I know that I will strive to be worthy of such a reward. Death to the unclean, in the name of, and for the glory of, Him on Terra!" Malikar roars, and the roar is taken up by his comrades. Now, we are ready. It is time to unleash death.

_**Sorry that the chapter's a bit short, but I found that an appropriate end point. Two more chapters before Harald starts traveling, I think. Bit heavy on Warhammer, but I'm trying to build in the zealotry common to 40K and give an honest reason for it in a new world. Hope I manage that well, and that you enjoyed this chapter. The Church's forces are fully mobilized, and now the undead hordes will attempt to overrun them. Let's see if the Sororitas can stand fast, shall we? I'll continue this soon, no worries. Read and review, thank you.**_


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